George dumped a sheet of paper several feet long on his desk. Not cutting the sheet into individual stories was his way of showing displeasure. He probably wanted Arthur to complain, so that he could point out how much work there was for him to do with the early Lad off sick. Arthur fumbled in his desk for scissors, and began to read.

He went through a political story from Washington, a Test Match report, and a Middle East roundup. He was halfway through a minor Hollywood divorce when the phone rang. He picked it up and said: "News desk."

"I've got an item for your gossip column." It was a man's voice, with a broad Cockney accent.

Cole was instantly skeptical. This was not the voice of a man who would have inside information on the love lives of the aristocracy. He said: "Good. Would you like to tell me your name?"

"Never mind about that. Do you know who Tim Fitzpeterson is?"

"Of course."

"Well, he's making a fool of himself with a redhead. She must be twenty years younger than him. Do you want his phone number?"

"Please." Cole wrote it down. He was interested now. If a Minister's marriage had broken up, it would make a good story, not just a gossip item. "Who's the girl?" he said.

"Calls herself an actress. Truth is, she's a brass. Just give him a ring right away, and ask him about Dizi Disney." The line went dead.

Cole frowned. This was a little odd: most tipsters wanted money, especially for news of this kind. He shrugged. It was worth checking out. He would give it to a reporter later on.

Then he changed his mind. Innumerable stories had been lost forever by being put aside for a few minutes. Fitzpeterson might leave for the House or his Whitehall office. And the informant had said: "Give him a ring right away."

Cole read the number off his notebook and dialed.