His victims laughed unhappily and Falls, with an air of making the best of a bad business, said: ‘That, at least, is true. I don’t believe I’ve missed a London production of yours for ten years or more.’

‘Splendid,’ said Gaunt more cordially. ‘You’ve met my secretary, haven’t you? Let’s sit down for pity’s sake.’ They sat down. Mr Falls hitched his chair a little nearer to Gaunt’s.

‘I’ve often thought I should like to ask you to confirm or refute a pet theory of mine,’ he said. ‘It concerns Horatio’s very palpable lie in reference to the liquidation of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. It seems to me that in view of your brilliant reading of Hamlet’s account of the affair—’

‘Yes, yes. I know what you’re at. “He never gave commandment for their death.” Pure whitewash. What else?’

‘I have always thought the line refers to Claudius. Your Horatio—’

‘No, no. To Hamlet. Obviously to Hamlet.’

‘Of course the comparison is absurd, but I was going to ask you if you had ever seen Gustav Gründgen’s treatment—’

‘Gründgen’s? But that’s Hitler’s tame actor, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, yes.’ Mr Falls made a little movement, gave a little yelp, and clapped his hand to the small of his back. ‘This odious complaint!’ he lamented. ‘Yes, that is the fellow. A ridiculous performer. You never saw anything like the Hamlet. Madder and madder and madder does he grow and they think he’s marvellous. I witnessed it. Before the war, of course. Naturally.’

‘Naturally!’ said Questing with a loud laugh.

‘But we were speaking of the play. I have always considered—’ And Mr Falls was off on an extremely knowledgeable discussion of the minor puzzles of the play. Six years’ association with Shakespearean productions had not killed Dikon’s passion for Hamlet and he listened with interest. Falls was a good talker if an affected one. He had all sorts of mannerisms, nervous movements of his hands that accorded ill with his face, which was tranquil and remarkably comely. He had taken out a pipe, but, instead of lighting it, emphasized the points in his argument by knocking it out against the leg of his deck chair. ‘To make three acts where in the text there are five!’ he said, excitedly, and the dottle from his pipe flew about Mrs Claire’s clean verandah as he illustrated his theme with appropriate and angry raps on the chair leg: ‘Three, mind you, three, three! In God’s name, why not leave the play as he wrote it?’

‘But we do play it in its entirety, sometimes.’

‘My dear sir, I know you do. I am enormously grateful as all Shakespeareans must be. Do forgive me. I am riding my hobby horse to death, and before you of all people. Arrogant presumption!’