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Hyatt. His title was bestowed upon him by the queen for his services to the Court of St. James and the Arab world, which he well deserved because he is a brilliant diplomat and as pro-Arab as he is pro-West. I’ll send the car around for you.”
    An American in the know who thinks he is chic and very cosmopolitan would include Wilton’s high on his list of London restaurants. Down through the years Americans have loved Wilton’s because they believe it is the height of English chic. It is, without question, the English gentlemen’s restaurant. Not far from their tailors, just around the corner from their clubs, down the street from Fortnum & Mason’s, right in the heart of St. James.
    A Frenchman dining in London, on the other hand, would go to Wilton’s because it looks like an Englishman’s French restaurant, with Edwardian cooking.
    An Englishman dining at Wilton’s would very likely be of the aristocracy, a stockbroker trying to look like English aristocracy, a property developer trying to look like a stockbroker, or an industrialist trying to look like a country gentleman with an O.B.E., who in fact looks like a property developer or a stockbroker, but never an aristocrat.
    A world-famous antique dealer whose club is Brooks, who is married to a duchess, is as much a scholar as a dealer and is an honorable gentleman would dine at Wilton’s because it is a great restaurant and a habit.
    As Cecil and Isabel entered the restaurant, they were warmly welcomed by the owner, who graciously called for a man to take Isabel’s sleeveless coat of mocha-colored, rough buffalo suede. Cecil looked with approval at the Jean Muir silk jersey dress with its voluminous sleeves held tight at the wrists, its deep V-shaped neck which revealed nothing but suggested everything, and its slim skirt. The sash of the same material was held not by a buckle but by an antique Cartier brooch of diamonds.
    Isabel looked around the room and received a few admiring looks in return. There were the usual English gentlemenon the company lunch, a few foreign men, but hardly any women in the dining room. The women that were there were purely decoration for their escorts — an Englishman always likes “a bird in the hand.”
    Over champagne and oysters Isabel told Cecil about the telephone call from Sir Alexis Hyatt, omitting that she thought he desired her. Actually, Ava had done her work well the night before. What Isabel had interpreted as a personal interest in her, she now no longer thought even a remote possibility. Isabel saw herself through Ava’s eyes: a woman alone, only to be used.
    Cecil was a good friend and a shrewd businessman. He made it very clear that he was available to her for anything that she might need on her project with Sir Alexis.
    As Isabel sipped her wine and dissected her moist and sweet roast pheasant, Cecil told her what he felt she should know about her new client.
    Before the pheasant carcass was removed from the table Isabel had learned that Sir Alexis Hyatt was one of the richest men in Egypt. His father was Coptic, and the family could be traced back to 250 A.D . Historically the family had always been involved in both church and state, serving under kings and presidents. The name Hyatt had never been tarnished by scandal.
    Sir Alexis’s mother was a Moslem whose ancestors had come to Egypt in 645 A.D. and had ruled that country under the Ottoman Empire. Saladin, Muhammed Ali and a most unusual slave who became queen around 1245 A.D. were only a few of her famous family.
    The Hyatt estate included vast tracts of rich land, some agricultural and some prime property in many capital cities around the world. There were corporate holdings, art collections, a fleet of ships. The scale was such that no one had ever thought to estimate the family’s worth. For all their wealth the Hyatts always kept as low a profile as possible.
    There were two younger brothers who handled most of the business side of things, along with