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He introduced himself. "Do you mind awfully having an opponent?"
"Not at all," said Murphy with an infectious smile. "Beats playing alone, providing you don't smear the court with me."
"Small chance of that."
"You play much racquetball?"
"Actually, squash is more my game."
"I'd guess that from your British accent." Murphy gestured to a chair. "Have a drink. Plenty of time before our court is free."
Burton-Angus welcomed the opportunity to relax and ordered a gin. "Beautiful countryside. The canal reminds me of one that runs near my home in Devon."
"Travels through Georgetown and into the Potomac River," Murphy said in his best tour-guide fashion.
"When the water freezes in winter the local residents use it for skating and ice fishing."
"Do you work in Washington?" asked Burton-Angus.
"Yes, I'm the Senate historian. And you?"
"Aide to the naval attachd for the British embassy."
A detached expression crossed Murphy's face and it seemed to Burton-Angus that the American was staring right through him.
"Is something wrong?"
Murphy shook his head. "No, not at all. You being navy and British reminded me of a woman, a commander in the U.S. Navy who came to me searching for data concerning a treaty between our two countries."
"No doubt a trade treaty."
"I can't say. The strange part is that except for an old photograph, there is no record of it in Senate archives."
"A photograph?"
"Yes, with a notation about a North American Treaty."
"I'd be happy to have someone probe the embassy files for you."
"Please don't bother. It's not that important."
"No bother at all," insisted Burton-Angus. "Do you have a date?"
"On or about May twentieth, nineteen fourteen."
"Ancient history."
"Probably only a proposed treaty that was rejected."
"Nonetheless, I'll have a look," said Burton-Angus as his drink arrived. He held up the glass. "Cheers."
Sitting at his desk in the British embassy on Massachusetts Avenue, Alexander Moffat looked and acted like the archetype of a government official. With his hair trimmed short with an immaculately creased left-hand part, a ramrod spine and precise correctness in speech and mannerism, he and thousands of counterparts throughout the foreign service could have been stamped from the same cookie cutter. His desk was barren of all clutter; the only objects resting on its polished surface were his folded hands.
"I'm dreadfully sorry, Lieutenant, but I find nothing in the records department mentioning an Anglo-American treaty in early nineteen fourteen."
"Most peculiar," said Burton-Angus. "The American chap who gave me the information seemed reasonably certain such a treaty either existed or at least had been in the talk stage."
"Probably has his year wrong."
