“Patrick!” hails a friendly voice behind me as I exit London’s Victoria Tube station. I’m on my way to Olivomare, a discreet Belgravia restaurant that my guest, Sir Win Bischoff, has chosen. But Bischoff has been on the same Tube train as me and so the encounter begins 10 minutes early — not over the crispbreads and olive oil that we will soon be sharing, but amid the bustling, fume-choked streets that lead to our tranquil lunch location, just around the corner from Bischoff’s stuccoed home.

The 78-year-old is set to step down in October as chair of the Financial Reporting Council, the UK’s audit regulator, after a half-century career in finance. He is the epitome of the City gent, still sprightly and a touch rosy-cheeked from years of wining and dining. Even without the bowler hat and rolled umbrella that were the uniform of Bischoff’s gener­ation when he joined the merchant bank Schroders in the 1960s, he seems the embodiment of the old-school British banker.

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