When they crawled in, bleary-eyed, at breakfast time the following morning, Serrin and Tom were astounded by Michael’s fifteenth-floor apartment in Soho. The Englishman looked as dapper as usual, unaffected by sleeplessness. Serrin felt like a shop dummy in his ridiculous clothes, but Tom assured him that he looked really flash. Serrin hadn’t turned round fast enough to see the smile, never suspecting Tom had a talent for sarcasm.