Could London (and Dublin) have decided that David Trimble's survival is no longer material to the future of the peace process?
When first posed in this newspaper a fortnight ago, the question prompted a swift and furious response from the British government. "Total and absolute bullshit" was the considered comment of one official, emulating the take-no-hostages approach to news management most brilliantly practised by Alistair Campbell, Tony Blair's spokesman.
Subsequent callers were more sober, reflecting considerable alarm - and apparent incredulity - that such dark thoughts could be entertained by any serious player in Northern Ireland.
They will have felt themselves vindicated by Peter Mandelson's Commons statement on Thursday night. Despite Dublin's opposition, Mr Mandelson was determined to do what he had to do to avert Mr Trimble's resignation as First Minister. Lest anyone should have missed the point, an official spelt it out: "We have said all along that we regard David Trimble as absolutely essential to the survival of the Good Friday agreement."
But could Dublin ministers and officials, hand on heart, say the same?
As journalists scoured the West Country on Thursday awaiting confirmation of Mr Ahern's departure, for first one venue and then another, the suspicion grew in London that the Taoiseach was engaged in a deliberate stalling exercise: pushing back the time of his intended meeting with Mr Blair with a view to preventing Mr Mandelson from making any statement at all.
After the late-night event, and some apparently real progress in Dublin's negotiations with Sinn Fein and the IRA, such unworthy thoughts were soon forgotten. However, it is clear that Dublin did not want the Secretary of State to make any announcement about suspension of the power-sharing Executive and other institutions.
Certainly, within the hour of his appearance at the dispatch box, Dublin sources confirmed they did not expect him to produce the legislation enabling suspension or to announce the timetable for its passage through Westminster. Mr Mandelson did both, having calculated the minimum necessary to prevent Mr Trimble's post-dated resignation letter taking immediate effect.
Watching the exchanges on the Commons floor, a number of colleagues formed the immediate impression that Mr Trimble might walk anyway. So, given their resistance to suspension, what had Dublin thought might happen if Mr Mandelson chose to call the Ulster Unionist leader's bluff? According to one British source: "We've said to them, `Do you realise that we'll be dealing with Jeffrey Donaldson, that it might take unionism another five years to get back to the table?' " The response to this, it seems, was unclear.
Perhaps he was over-egging the pudding. Even in the best of relationships, tensions inevitably rise at times like this. Mr Trimble almost certainly would be wrong to think Dublin's purpose was to see him hung out to dry. The more likely explanation is that Dublin was fixated on getting a result from the republican movement - and somehow assumed that, as it attended to its "client", London would find a way of keeping Mr Trimble aboard.
That said, it is not fanciful to imagine ministers and officials of either government wondering from time to time about the utility of a unionist leader so beset by powerful enemies, any more than it is to wonder, if push came to shove, whether governments would choose the political process over the peace.
This latter question certainly suggested itself afresh this week to some leading unionists and others, amid signs that the imperatives of "pan-nationalism" might assert themselves over the imperative to secure IRA decommissioning. While Seamus Mallon was taking Sinn Fein's Mitchel McLaughlin head-on on Thursday night, 24 hours earlier he had seemed to shift position, suggesting that the republicans and Ulster Unionists would each have to move theirs.
"Having your cake and eating it" was the sniffy comment of one British source. Angered and alarmed by this, as by Mr Ahern's assertion that suspension would be "a disaster", Mr Trimble by Wednesday night already appeared quite resigned.
Twenty-four hours later, following the Mandelson statement, a senior unionist colleague thought this still his leader's condition. "I feel sorry for the man," he said. "I think he's lost the appetite for it, lost belief in it. Watching him I got the impression that he'd really have been happier had Mandelson just brought it all to an end there and then." He still fully expects the Secretary of State to have done so by next Friday.
There was palpable relief on Thursday night at the discovery that the legislative process gave time for one last Dublin effort to obtain "clarity" and "certainty" of republican intent to decommission. It will have been punctured by a reminder late yesterday afternoon that Mr Trimble also requires "product" and is, in a real sense, no longer master of his own destiny.
Should clarity and certainty translate into a firm start-date for decommissioning, then Mr Trimble could probably win some extra time. However, just as Mr Mallon detected a Mandelsonian hint that the May deadline might have to be flexible, so Mr Trimble will be alert for the fudge. Certainly some close to him have little doubt that the pendulum that hit Mr Adams between the eyes on Thursday will inevitably rebound on Mr Trimble.
Closest to Mr Trimble over the next while will be Sir Josias Cunningham, president of the Ulster Unionist Council and keeper of that post-dated letter of resignation.
In a terse statement yesterday, Ulster Unionist Party headquarters let it be known he believes the Executive and other institutions "cannot continue in the absence of actual decommissioning" and "whether through suspension or resignation, he expects the institutions to cease to operate within the next few days".
The implication is clear. The IRA begins decommissioning by Thursday; the Secretary of State suspends by Friday; or the big bang comes when the UUC reconvenes on Saturday.