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cannot even hire a detective. The information I need would not be available to anyone but an insider.' I was about to suggest he undertake the search himself, but looking at his shaking, hollow frame, the words died on my lips. 'Will you do it?' he asked after a brief pause.
    At this point, I was quite sure that I really didn't want to. Not just because of the prickly, time-wasting and awkward nature of the quest, but because the more I thought about it, the more I knew I didn't want to poke around in my own past, any more than his. The time he spoke of was over. For both of us. I had hardly kept up with anyone from those days, for reasons which involved him, as he knew, and what was there to gain by rootling around in it all? I decided to make a last attempt to appeal to his better nature. Even people like Damian Baxter must have a little. 'Damian, think. Do you really want to turn their life upside down? This man, this woman, they know who they are and they're living their life as best they can. Will it help to find they're someone different and unknown? To make them question, or even break with, their parents? Would you want that on your conscience?'
    He looked at me quite steadily. 'My fortune, after death duties, will be far in excess of five hundred million pounds. My intention is to make my child sole heir. Are you prepared to take the responsibility for denying them their inheritance? Would you want that on your conscience?'
    Naturally, it would have been jejune to pretend that this did not make all the difference in the world. 'How would I set about it?' I said.
    He relaxed. 'I will present you with a list of the girls I slept with during those years, who had a child before April 1971.' This was again impressive. The list of girls I had slept with during the same period, with or without children, could have been contained on the blank side of a visiting card. It was also very precise and oddly businesslike. I had thought we were engaged in some sort of philosophical exchange but I saw now we were approaching what used to be called 'brass tacks.' He obviously sensed my surprise. 'My secretary has made a start. There didn't seem much point in your getting in touch if they hadn't had a baby.' Which was of course true. 'I believe the list is comprehensive.'
    'What about the girls you slept with who did not bear children at that time?'
    'Don't let's worry about them. No point in making work.' He smiled. 'We've done a lot of weeding. There were a couple of others I slept with who did have an early child but, in the words of the Empress Eugenie's mother when challenged over her Imperial daughter's paternity, les dates ne correspondent pas .' He laughed, easier now that he saw his plan would come to fruition. 'I want you to know that I have taken this seriously and there is a real possibility that it could be any one of the listed names.'
    'So how do I go about it?'
    'Just get in touch. With one exception, I've got the present addresses.'
    'Why don't you ask them to have a DNA test?'
    'That sort of woman would never agree.'
    'You romanticise them in your dislike. I suspect they would. And their children certainly would when they found out why.'
    'No.' He was suddenly quite firm again. I could see my comment had annoyed him. 'I don't want this to be a story. Only the true child must know I'm looking for them. When they have the money it will be their choice to reveal how or why they got it. Until then, this is for my private satisfaction, not public consumption. Test one who isn't my child and we will read the story in the Daily Mail the following week.' He shook his head. 'Maybe we should test them at the last, but only when you have elected which of the said progeny is probably mine.'
    'But suppose one of the women had a baby without anyone knowing and put it up for adoption?'
    'They haven't done that. At least, the mother of my baby hasn't.'
    'How do you know?'
    'Because then she wouldn't have stared at her lie every