Best Kept Secret

director of the Tate Gallery on Millbank, will be able to tell me which sculpture?’
    ‘He’s already told us,’ said Emma triumphantly. ‘It’s one of the words you failed to underline, Sir Alan.’ Emma was unable to resist a smirk. ‘My late
mother would have spotted it long before I did, even on her death bed.’
    Both Harry and Giles smiled.
    ‘And what word did I fail to underline, Mrs Clifton?’
    No sooner had Emma answered the question, than the cabinet secretary picked up the phone by his side and said, ‘Call John Rothenstein at the Tate, and make an appointment for me to see him
this evening after the gallery has closed.’
    Sir Alan put the phone down and smiled at Emma. ‘I’ve always been an advocate of employing more women in the Civil Service.’
    ‘I do hope, Sir Alan, that you’ll underline
more
and
women,’
said Emma.

    Sebastian stood on the upper deck of the
Queen Mary
and leaned over the railings as Buenos Aires receded in the distance until it looked like no more than a traced
outline on an architect’s drawing board.
    So much had happened in the short time since he’d been rusticated from Beechcroft, although he was still puzzled why his father had travelled all that way just to let him know he
hadn’t lost his place at Cambridge. Wouldn’t it have been a lot easier just to phone the ambassador, who clearly knew Don Pedro? And why had the ambassador personally given him his
passport, when Becky could have handed it to him at the reception desk? And even stranger, why had the ambassador wanted to know his middle name? He still didn’t have any answers to these
questions by the time Buenos Aires had disappeared from sight. Perhaps his father would supply them.
    He turned his thoughts to the future. His first responsibility, for which he had already been handsomely recompensed, was to ensure that Don Pedro’s sculpture passed smoothly through
customs, and he didn’t intend to leave the dockside until Sotheby’s had picked it up.
    But until then, he decided to relax and enjoy the voyage. He intended to read the last few pages of
Officers and Gentlemen,
and hoped he might find the first volume in the ship’s
library.
    Now that he was on the way home, he felt he should give some thought to what he could achieve in his first year at Cambridge that would impress his mother. That was the least he could do after
all the trouble he’d caused.

    ‘The Thinker,’
said Sir John Rothenstein, the director of the Tate Gallery, ‘is considered by most critics to be one of Rodin’s most iconic
works. It was originally designed to be part of
The Gates of Hell
, and was at first entitled
The Poet
, as the artist wished to pay homage to his hero, Dante. And such became the
artist’s association with the piece that the maestro is buried under a cast of this bronze at Meudon.’
    Sir Alan continued to circle the great statue. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, Sir John, but is this the fifth of the nine editions that were originally cast?’
    ‘That is correct, Sir Alan. The most sought after works by Rodin are those that were cast in his lifetime by Alexis Rudier at his foundry in Paris. Since Rodin’s death, unfortunately
in my opinion, the French government has allowed limited editions to be reproduced by another foundry, but these are not considered by serious collectors to have the same authenticity as the
lifetime casts.’
    ‘Is it known where all the nine original casts are now?’
    ‘Oh yes,’ said the director. ‘Apart from this one, there are three in Paris – at the Louvre, the Musée Rodin, and the one at Meudon. There is also one at the
Metropolitan Museum in New York, and another in the Hermitage in Leningrad, leaving three in hands of private collectors.’
    ‘Is it known who owns those three?’
    ‘One is in Baron de Rothschild’s collection, and another is owned by Paul Mellon. The whereabouts of the third has long been shrouded in mystery. All we know for certain is that
it’s a lifetime cast and was sold to a private collector by the Marlborough Gallery some ten years ago. However, that shroud might finally be lifted next week.’
    ‘I’m not sure I’m following you, Sir John.’
    ‘A 1902 cast of
The Thinker
is coming under the hammer at Sotheby’s on Monday evening.’
    ‘And who owns that one?’ asked Sir Alan innocently.
    ‘I’ve no idea,’ admitted Rothenstein. ‘In the Sotheby’s catalogue, it’s simply listed as the property of