Harry called me yesterday, which is unusual. I knew something was troubling him. He didn't say it, of course, never does, but eventually, near the end of a long, rambling conversation, he said, "Daniel, remind me again why love's such a bad thing?"

"Dulls the mind." I said, "Makes it harder to move on when the time comes. Fills your head with empty promises."

"All undeniably true." he said, "So I won't be risking that."

"You weren't tempted to, were you?" I said.

"You know me, Daniel." he said.

"Come home, Harry." I said, "Spend a few weeks with your old friends."

"Not just now, Daniel." he said, "I have a lot to do."

"Don't go falling for your lady detective!" I said.

He laughed. Daniel, she's the last woman I'd ever fall in love with."

I fear he may be right. I should give some thought to how I can extricate Harry from this unfortunate situation.

Bad liars have a habit of saying too much, justifying, explaining, adding evidence. The key is to keep things simple. Why would anyone offer evidence unless they expected their story to be doubted? Be brief, keep the details sketchy. Be surprised and confused when someone thinks to question it.

Harry's always been good at lying. It comes as naturally as breathing and he lies with a simplicity that makes doubt seem somehow ill-mannered. It's a rare gift.

Of course, once you can lie, everything else is easy. A good liar can have anything he wants at minimal cost to himself.

Looking back, I don't think I did a bad job with Harry. Under my expert guidance, he went from being a scruffy little street kid with no future to being a sophisticated charmer who can have anything he wants. Sometimes, I even impress myself.

It helps to have good material to work with, and that boy was the best. Right from the start he was sharp as a knife. I still think I put a fine polish on the blade.

I wonder, at times, whether he'll forget about me. So far he hasn't, but there's a woman in the equation now and I don't imagine she'll want his past hanging around. Ah well, I'll find out. At least I know the boy had a good start in the craft.

I went to see Estelle today, possibly my oldest friend. When Harry was a boy, we'd sometimes stay in her boarding house and she'd feed him all the terrible food boys love. He had an unnatural affection for baked beans, as I recall. I love to remind him of it sometimes.

Estelle asked if I was serious about retiring. I assured her I was. "I'll believe it when I see it." she said, "But I hope you do it. It's time you lived more honestly."

"The Pirates of Penzance!" I said.

"You've lost me, love." she replied.

"Oh, better far to live and die under the brave black flag I fly than play a sanctimonious part with a pirate head and a pirate heart."

"Oh, you have a pirate heart alright, you smooth-talking buccaneer!" she said, "But it's time to find a safe port and settle down with your rum."

"I concur." I said.

"You'll miss it, of course."

"Yes, but if even Harry can settle to a legitimate life, so can I. Maybe I'll ask him how he does it."

"You and Harry are two of a kind." she said.

"On a good day, we're a full house." I said.

I hate people who cheat people who don't deserve to be cheated. Me? I always go for the greedy, the arrogant, the cruel. What I don't do is send someone round to an elderly widow to demand gambling debts that don't exist two days after she has seen her husband buried.

A man called Hoskins did, and that's just his latest little exploit. He's rotten all the way through and his little gambling empire ruins people. The Major and I think he might be just the chap to fund our retirements.

It's the kind of thing we've done a hundred times. Every casino has its weak points. We're making tentative enquiries. Once we have a serious plan, we'll act on it.

One thing about Harry that was always useful was his ability to cook. No matter how bad things got, if I could manage to filch us a couple of lamb chops and some garlic, he'd make an incredible meal from them.

He always loved to be in the kitchen. I think it's because he was so good at cooking. Harry always did enjoy doing things that would impress people. It doesn't hurt that women are so readily impressed by a man who can cook. Any man who thinks cooking is effeminate should ask Harry how long it takes him to get a woman from canard au vin rouge to the bedroom. Women love men who can cook!

I miss his cooking now. I can cook up something edible, but not with his flair and panache.

I wonder if he has allowed Miss Holt a taste of his duck yet. Few women can resist it.

The Major and I make an excellent team. Always have, actually. He has such a reputation for honesty that he can behave like a complete bounder whenever he feels like it. Nobody ever suspects him. An honest face and a good name are vital to those of us who live by the craft of the conman.

Harry always looked honest. Even as a kid, he could tell a bare-faced lie, looking you right in the eyes, with the face of an angel. He would look so confused when doubted, as if the idea that he could be lying was completely outside his understanding.

As he grew older, he became ever more adept at appearing honest. The touching sincerity of his speech captured women's hearts and gained him men's respect. Sometimes, even I would find myself believing him, even when I had written his script.

I often wonder now whether the great Remington Steele still looks into the eyes of his marks and quells their doubts with a self-deprecating smile and a "to be honest".

The boy has a rare gift. I hope he isn't letting it go to waste.

The key to any con is to know the ulterior motives of all involved. It's an old saying that you can't cheat an honest man. The greedy, dishonest and selfish always make the best marks. Find out what your mark wants to cheat you out of and let him think he can do it.

Harry is a master at letting people con themselves. He asks seemingly rhetorical questions to which their greed, ambition or fear supplies an answer that seems indisputable. Anyone can, with a little effort, lie fairly convincingly at times. Harry can make people want to believe any lie he tells them and that is a rare gift.

I really need to leave this life behind me and settle down to a quiet retirement. I'll find a nice villa and dedicate myself to teaching attractive women to appreciate champagne.

It'll have to be a big place, so Harry can come and hold court, dazzling the locals with his largesse. Just because I'm leaving the life of crime ... creativity it doesn't mean I won't keep my old friend and partner nearby. After all, if my cash runs out, I may need him to support me. He would, too.

In the end, money is a poor way of keeping score. What matters is whether, in the autumn of your life, there is somebody out there on whom you can rely without doubt. I have Harry and he has me, so we have both achieved a lot from a poor start. Of course, he would also say he has this Miss Holt of his, but nine times out of ten, a woman's affection is extremely conditional. He knows I'll never try to reform him! After all, I corrupted him in the first place, or at least polished his knavery to a burnished gleam.

Harry always loved movies, I always loved shows and plays. We'd alternate between the two. I don't recall ever arguing with him about it. I could enjoy a movie and he quickly got to be rather fond of culture.

Harry and I have never argued much. When we do, it's soon resolved and never resented. I'm too fond of the lad to let any quarrel between us get out of hand.

I think one danger point was when we realised the Contessa had fooled us both. We had always kept our romantic intrigues separate. He would never glance at a woman if he saw I was interested and vice versa. Finding out that we both knew about a particular birthmark sparked a moment of foolish jealousy and anger. I looked at this younger, better looking ingrate who had usurped my prior claim and wanted to knock him down and he saw an older man, armed with charms and sophistication he hadn't quite mastered, moving in on his woman. We squared up to each other, virtually pawing the ground and then he smiled, tilted his head on one side and said, "For a woman, Daniel? Us?"

"Not for any woman." I said, "Pour the brandy."

We laughed then at how gullible we'd both been. Of course, we didn't know the half of it then. Still, at least Harry managed to fly the helicopter.