M. Dupont had not once looked over in Mr Lewis’s direction during the course of this speech, and indeed, once the company had toasted his lordship and were seated again, all those present seemed to be studiously avoiding looking towards the American gentleman. An uneasy silence reigned for a moment, and then finally Mr Lewis rose to his feet. He was smiling pleasantly in his customary manner.

‘Well, since everyone’s giving speeches, I may as well take a turn,’ he said, and it was at once apparent from his voice that he had had a good deal to drink. ‘I don’t have anything to say to the nonsense our French friend has been uttering. I just dismiss that sort of talk. I’ve had people try to put one over on me many times, and let me tell you, gentlemen, few people succeed. Few people succeed.’ Mr Lewis came to a halt and for a moment seemed at a loss as to how he should go on. Eventually he smiled again and said: ‘As I say, I’m not going to waste my time on our French friend over there. But as it happens, I do have something to say. Now we’re all being so frank, I’ll be frank too. You gentlemen here, forgive me, but you are just a bunch of naïve dreamers. And if you didn’t insist on meddling in large affairs that affect the globe, you would actually be charming. Let’s take our good host here. What is he? He is a gentleman. No one here, I trust, would care to disagree. A classic English gentleman. Decent, honest, well-meaning. But his lordship here is an amateur.’ He paused at the word and looked around the table. ‘He is an amateur and international affairs today are no longer for gentlemen amateurs. The sooner you here in Europe realize that the better. All you decent, well-meaning gentlemen, let me ask you, have you any idea what sort of place the world is becoming all around you? The days when you could act out of your noble instincts are over. Except of course, you here in Europe don’t yet seem to know it. Gentlemen like our good host still believe it’s their business to meddle in matters they don’t understand. So much hog-wash has been spoken here these past two days. Well-meaning, naïve hog-wash. You here in Europe need professionals to run your affairs. If you don’t realize that soon you’re headed for disaster. A toast, gentlemen. Let me make a toast. To professionalism.’

There was a stunned silence and no one moved. Mr Lewis shrugged, raised his glass to all the company, drank and sat back down. Almost immediately, Lord Darlington stood up.

‘I have no wish,’ his lordship said, ‘to enter into a quarrel on this our last evening together which we all deserve to enjoy as a happy and triumphant occasion. But it is out of respect for your views, Mr Lewis, that I feel one should not simply cast them to one side as though they were uttered by some soap-box eccentric. Let me say this. What you describe as “amateurism,” sir, is what I think most of us here still prefer to call “honour”.’

This brought a loud murmur of assent with several ‘hear, hear’s’ and some applause.

‘What is more, sir,’ his lordship went on, ‘I believe I have a good idea of what you mean by “professionalism.” It appears to mean getting one’s way by cheating and manipulating. It appears to mean serving the dictates of greed and advantage rather than those of goodness and the desire to see justice prevail in the world. If that is the “professionalism” you refer to, sir, I don’t much care for it and have no wish to acquire it.’

This was met by the loudest burst of approval yet, followed by warm and sustained applause. I could see Mr Lewis smiling at his wine glass and shaking his head wearily. It was just around this stage that I became aware of the first footman beside me, who whispered: