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armies are in retreat on every front. The Americans know this. Without France as an ally, they will lose their last chance of dominating North America. We shall be able to release more and more ships to harass their convoys and forestall large troop movements by sea. Last September you proved, if proof were needed, that a well-placed force of powerful frigates was far more use than sixty ships of the line.” He smiled. “I can still recall their faces in the other room when you told Their Lordships that the line of battle was finished. Blasphemy, some thought, and unfortunately there are still many you have yet to convince.”
    Bolitho saw him look at the clock yet again. Sillitoe was late. He knew the extent of his own influence and accepted it, knew too that people feared him. Bolitho suspected it pleased him.
    Bethune was saying, “All these years, Richard, a lifetime for some. Twenty years of almost unbroken war with the French, and even before that, when we were in Sparrow during the American rebellion, we were fighting France as well.”
    â€œWe were all very young then, Graham. But I can understand why ordinary men and women have lost faith in victory, even now, when it is within our grasp.”
    â€œBut you never doubted it.”
    Bolitho heard voices in the corridor. “I never doubted we would win, eventually. Victory? That is something else.”
    A servant opened the fine double doors and Sillitoe came unhurriedly into the room.
    Catherine had described the portrait of Sillitoe’s father, which she had seen at the reception in his house. Valentine Keen had been her escort on that occasion: that would have set a few tongues wagging. But as he stood there now, in slate-grey broadcloth and gleaming white silk stock, Bolitho could compare the faces as if he had been there with her. Sillitoe’s father had been a slaver, “a black ivory captain,” he had called him. Baron Sillitoe of Chiswick had come far, and since the King had been declared insane his position as personal adviser to the Prince Regent had strengthened until there was very little in the political affairs of the nation he could not manipulate or direct.
    He gave a curt bow. “You look very well and refreshed, Sir Richard. I was pleased to hear of your nephew’s exoneration.”
    Obviously, news travelled faster among Sillitoe’s spies than in the corridors of Admiralty.
    Sillitoe smiled, his hooded eyes, as always, concealing his thoughts.
    â€œHe is too good a captain to waste. I trust he will accept Rear-Admiral Keen’s invitation. I think he should. I believe he will.”
    Bethune rang for the servant. “You may bring refreshments, Tolan.” It gave him time to recover from his shock that Sillitoe’s network was more efficient than his own.
    Sillitoe turned smoothly to Bolitho.
    â€œAnd how is Lady Catherine? Well, I trust, and no doubt pleased to be back in town?”
    Pointless to explain that Catherine wanted only to return to a quieter life in Falmouth. But one could not be certain of this man. He who seemed to know everything probably knew that, too.
    â€œShe is happy, my lord.” He thought of her in the early hours of the morning when Avery had arrived. Happy? Yes, but concealing at the same time, and not always successfully, the deeper pain of their inevitable separation. Before Catherine, life had been very different. He had always accepted that his duty lay where his orders directed. It had to be. But his love he would leave behind, wherever she was.
    Sillitoe leaned over the map. “Crucial times, gentlemen. You will have to return to Halifax, Sir Richard—you are the only one familiar with all the pieces of the puzzle. The Prince Regent was most impressed with your report and the vessels you require.” He smiled dryly. “Even the expense did not deter him. For more than a moment, that is.”
    Bethune said, “The First Lord has agreed