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you say anything at all； you'll wish you hadn't。'
'Sid；' she said mock…sorrowfully； 'can't you take a bit of kicking around？'
Tatum opened his mouth indignantly and； as I was afraid he might try to defend me； I shook my head。 He stared at me； then with a plete change of manner said in smooth lawyerly detachment； 'Miss Cathcart； why are you here？'
'Why？ To see you； of course。'
'But why？'
She looked from him to me and back again； her appearance just as I remembered it： flawless porcelain skin； light…blue eyes； cleanly outlined mouth； black shining hair。 She wore brown and red； with amber beads。
She said； 'Isn't it improper for a colleague of the Crown Prosecutor to be seen talking to one of the witnesses？'
'No； it isn't；' Tatum said； and asked me； 'Did you tell her we were meeting here？'
'Of course not。'
'Then how 。。。 why； Miss Cathcart； are you here？'
'I told you。 It's a story。'
'Does The Pump know you're here？' I asked。
A shade crossly she said； 'I'm not a child。 I'm allowed out on my own； you know。 And anyway； the paper sent me。'
'The Pump told you we'd be here？' Tatum asked。
'My editor said to e and see。 And he was right！'
Tatum said；'Sid？'
'Mm；' I said。 'Interesting。'
India said to me。 'Kevin says you went to school in Liverpool。'
Tatum； puzzled； asked； 'What did you say？'
She explained； 'Sid wouldn't tell me where he went to school； so I found out。' She looked at me accusingly。 'You don't sound like Liverpool。'
'Don't I？'
'You sound more like Eton。 How e？'
'I'm a mimic；' I said。
If she really wanted to； she could find out also that between the ages of sixteen and twenty…one I'd been more or less adopted by a Newmarket trainer （who had been to Eton） who made me into a good jockey and by his example changed my speech and taught me how to live and how to behave and how to manage the money I earned。 He'd been already old then； and he died。 I often thought of him。 He opened doors for me still。
'Kevin told me you were a slum child；'India said。
'Slum is an attitude； not a place。'
'Prickly； are we？'
Damn； I thought。 I will not let her goad me。 I smiled； which she didn't like。
Tatum； listening with disapproval； said； 'Who is Kevin？'
'He works for The Pump；' I told him。
India said； 'Kevin Mills is The Pump's chief reporter。 He did favours for Halley and got kicked in the teeth。'
'Painful；' Tatum mented dryly。
'This conversation's getting nowhere；' I said。 'India； Mr Tatum is not the prosecuter in any case where I am a witness； and we may talk about anything we care to； including； as just now before you came golf。'
'You can't play golf with one hand。'
It was Tatum who winced； not I。 I said； 'You can watch golf on television without arms； legs or ears。 Where did your editor get the idea that you might find us here？'
'He didn't say。 It doesn't matter。'
'It is of the essence；' Tatum said。
'It's interesting；' I said； 'because to begin with it was The Pump that worked up the greatest head of steam about the ponies mutilated in Kent。 That was why I got in touch with Kevin Mills。 Between us we set up a Hotline； as a 〃Save the Tussilago farfara〃 sort of thing。'
India demanded； 'What did you say？'
'Tussilago farfara；' Tatum repeated； amused。 'It's the botanicit name of the wildflower； coltsfoot。'
'How did you know that？' she asked me fiercely。
'I looked it up。'
'Oh。'
'Anyway； the minute I linked Ellis Quint； even tentatively； to the colts； and to Rachel Ferns' pony； The Pump abruptly changed direction and started tearing me apart with crusading claws。 I can surely ask； India； why do you write about me so ferociously？ Is it just your way？ Is it that you do so many hatchet jobs that you can't do anything else？ I didn't expect kindness； but you are 。。。 every week 。。。 extreme。'
She looked unfortable。 She did what she had one week called me 'diddums' for doing： she defended herself。
'My editor gives me guidelines。' She almost tossed her head。
'You mean he tells you what to write？'
'Yes。 No。'
'Which？'
She looked from me to Tatum and back。
She said； 'He subs my piece to align it with overall policy。'
I said nothing。 Tatum said nothing。 India； a shade desperately； said； 'Only saints get themselves burned at the stake。'
Tatum said with gravitas； 'If I read any lies or innuendoes about my having improperly talked to Sid Halley about the forthing Quint trial； I will sue you personally for defamation； Miss Cathcart； and I will ask for punitive damages。 So choose your stake。 Flames seem inevitable。'
I felt almost sorry for her。 She stood up blankly； her eyes wide。
'Say we weren't here；' I said。
I couldn't read her frozen expression。 She walked away from us and headed for the stairs。
'A confused young woman；' Tatum said。 'But how did she …or her paper…know we would be here？'
I asked； 'Do you feed your appointments into a puter？'
He frowned。 'I don't do it personally。 My secretary does it。 We have a system which can tell where all the partners are； if there's a crisis。 It tells where each of us can be found。 I did tell my secretary I was ing here； but not who I was going to meet。 That still doesn't explain 。。。'
I sighed。 'Yesterday evening you phoned my mobile number。'
'Yes； and you phoned me back。'
'Someone's been listening on my mobile phone's frequency。 Someone heard you call me。'
'Hell！ But you called me back。 They heard almost nothing。'
'You gave your name 。。。 How secure is your office puter？'
'We change passwords every three months。'
'And you use passwords that everyone can remember easily？'
'Well。。。'
'There are people who crack passwords just for the fun of it。 And others hack into secrets。 You wouldn't believe how careless some firms are with their most private information。 Someone has recently accessed my own on…line puter during the past month。 I have a detector program that tells me。 Much good it will do any hacker as I never keep anything personal there。 But a bination of my mobile phone and your office puter must have e up with the possibility that your appointment was with me。 Someone in The Pump did it。 So they sent India along to find out 。。。 and here we are。 And because they succeeded； we now know they tried。'
'It's incredible。'
'Who runs The Pump'？ Who sets the policy？'
Tatum said thoughtfully； 'The editor is George Godbar。 The proprietor's Lord Tilepit。'
'Any connection with Ellis Quint？'
He considered the question and shook his head。 'Not that I know of。'
'Does Lord Tilepit have an interest in the television pany that puts on Ellis Quint's programme？ I think I'd better find out。'
Davis Tatum smiled。
Reflecting that； as about thirty hours had passed since Gordon Quint had jumped me in Pont Square； he was unlikely still to be hanging about there with murderous feelings and his fencing post （not least because with Ginnie dead he would have her inquest to distract him） and also feeling that one could take self…preservation to shaming lengths； I left the Piccadilly restaurant in a taxi and got the driver to make two reconnoitring passes round the