He advised the secret service, the petroleum companies, the army, the local government and the local maharajas as well. He was the man you came to when you wanted insider information and a little punt on specific characters in whichever companies.

This wasn’t a particularly English way to live, and he wouldn't have got away with it in Delhi. But in Calcutta, an imperial no-man’s land, he flourished. He was a middleman, a broker, a mediator, a local politician (without the bad publicity).

He knew people’s incomes and their promotions, their dreams and some of their personal tragedies.

He knew who was screwing whom and who would get caught.

Even so, rumours had grown up that he, you know, wasn’t quite English. He was half American, or worse, half Irish. That didn’t stop him being popular, however, for he was genuinely charming and affable, and was greeted by the other guests at the supper party with great warmth. Almost nothing was known about his private life.

‘Ah Johnny darling!’ Mrs Lewis took him from a servant. ‘I hope you’re well this hot sticky evening. We have the air-conditioning on in the dining-room, come through.’

‘Hallo Gina. Cool as a cucumber, you know me...’

‘Ha, well then you won’t want my iced cocktail, will you. In the long glass Bearer...‘ She lowered her voice. ‘Several new guests tonight, including a long-lost relative, please bear with us all. She’s here for a month, you’ll have to help me.’ Returning to normal voice, ‘Ah but you know Sandy and Gus...’

A round of welcoming set up, followed by: ‘And Johnny, this is Susan. Susan, Johnny - Johnny who keeps everyone here out of trouble. He’s quite a legend.’

He smiled quietly at her, and offered his hand, then kissed hers when he took it. Susan wasn’t sure what to do and clasped her hand round her back. Mrs Lewis, delighted, pretended not to see, then: