‘Thank heavens for that,’ Gaunt said but he looked a little huffy nevertheless.

In Colonel Claire’s study, a room about the size of a small pantry and rather less comfortable, Rua unfolded the purpose of his call. Dim photographs of polo teams glared down menacingly from the walls. Rua’s dark eyes rested for a moment on a group of turbaned Sikhs before he turned to address himself gravely to the Colonel.

‘I have brought,’ he said, ‘a greeting from my hapu to your distinguished guest, Mr Geoffrey Gaunt. The Maori people of Wai-ata-tapu are glad that he has come here and would like to greet him with a cordial Haere mai.’

‘Oh, thanks very much, Rua,’ said the Colonel. ‘I’ll tell him.’

‘We have heard that he wishes to be quiet. If however he would care to hear a little singing, we hope that he will do us the honour to come to a concert on Saturday week in the evening. I bring this invitation from my hapu to your guests and your family, Colonel.’

Colonel Claire raised his eyebrows, opened his eyes and mouth, and glared at his visitor. He was not particularly surprised, but merely wore his habitual expression for absorbing new ideas.

‘Eh?’ he said at last. ‘Did you say a concert? Extraordinarily nice of you, Rua, I must say. A concert.’

‘If Mr Gaunt would care to come.’

Colonel Claire gave a galvanic start. ‘Care to?’ he repeated. ‘I don’t know, I’m sure. We should have to ask him, what? Sound the secretary.’

Rua gave a little bow. ‘Certainly,’ he said.

Colonel Claire rose abruptly and thrust his head out of the window. ‘James!’ he yelled. ‘Here!’

‘What for?’ said Dr Ackrington’s voice at some distance.

‘I want you. It’s my brother-in-law,’ he explained more quietly to Rua. ‘We’ll see what he thinks, um?’ He went out to the verandah and shouted, ‘Agnes!’

‘Hoo-oo?’ replied Mrs Claire from inside the house.

‘Here.’

‘In a minute, dear.’

‘Barbara!’

‘Wait a bit, Daddy. I can’t.’

‘Here.’

Having summoned his family, Colonel Claire sank into an armchair, and glancing at Rua gave a rather aimless laugh. His eye happened to fall upon a Wild West novel that he had been reading. He was a greedy consumer of thrillers, and the sight of this one lying open and close at hand affected him as an open box of chocolate affects a child. He smiled at Rua and offered him a cigarette. Rua thanked him and took one, holding it cautiously between the tips of his fingers and thumb. Colonel Claire looked out of the corners of his eyes at his thriller. He was long-sighted.

‘There was another matter about which I hoped to speak,’ Rua said.

‘Oh yes?’ said Colonel Claire. ‘D’you read much?’

‘My eyesight is not as good as it once was, but I can still manage clear print.’