Dikon drove back with Simon, completely mum, beside him in the front seat. Gaunt and Barbara, after a few desultory questions about the wreck, were also silent, a circumstance that Dikon mistrusted, and with some reason, for Barbara was lost in enchantment. One glance at her face had been all too enlightening. ‘Besotted,’ Dikon muttered to himself. ‘What has he been up to? Telling her the story of his life, I don’t doubt, with all the trimmings. Acting his socks off. Kissing her hand. By heaven, if the place had a second floor, before we knew where we were he’d be treating her to the balcony scene. Romeo with fibrositis! The truth is, he’s reached the age when a girl’s ignorance and adulation can make a fool of a man. It’s revolting.’ But although he allowed himself to fume inwardly, he would have resented and denied such imputations against Gaunt from any outsider, for not the least of his troubles lay in his sense of divided allegiance. He reflected that, Barbara apart, he liked his employer too much to enjoy the spectacle of him making a fool of himself.

When they returned to the house they found Mr Septimus Falls and Mr Questing sitting in deck chairs side by side on the verandah, a singular association. Dikon had implored Simon to show no signs of particular animosity when he encountered Questing, but was nevertheless very much relieved when Simon grunted a word of thanks to Gaunt and walked off in the direction of his cabin. Barbara, with a radiant face, ran straight past Questing into the house. Gaunt, before leaving the car, leant forward and said: ‘I haven’t been so delightfully entertained for years. She’s a darling and she shall certainly be told who sent the dress.’

Dikon drove the car round to the garage.

When he returned he found that Questing, having introduced Septimus Falls to Gaunt, had adopted the manner of a sort of referee or ring master. ‘I’ve been telling this gentleman all the morning, Mr Gaunt, that you and he must get together. “Here’s our celebrated guest,” I said, “with nobody to provide him with the correct cultural stimulus until you came along.” It seems this gentleman is a great student of the drama, Mr Gaunt.’

‘Really?’ said Gaunt, and contrived to suggest distaste of Questing without positively insulting Falls.

Falls made a deprecating and slightly precious gesture. ‘Mr Questing is too generous,’ he said. ‘The merest tyro, I assure you, sir. Calliope rather than Thalia commands me.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘There you are!’ cried Mr Questing admiringly. ‘And I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Mr Falls has been telling me that he’s a great fan of yours, Mr Gaunt.’