‘First of all,’ said Campion, ‘Old Airy-fairy Simister, who, as we all know, is anxious to remain a kind of Machiavellian Mrs Harris, has a theory that you have a line on his birth certificate. So you have, but since it’s written in Esperanto, or something, you can’t read it. He doesn’t know what you’ve got hold of, and realizes that he wouldn’t recognize it if he saw it.’ He paused and glanced round at them. ‘Any boy who does not follow that, please put up his hand. All got there? Good! I’ll carry on. He realized …
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