Long after the events recorded in this tale were ended, Dikon, looking back at the first fortnight at Wai-ata-tapu, would reflect that they had suffered collectively from intermittent emotional hiccoughs. For long intervals the daily routine would be interrupted and then, when he wondered if they had settled down, they would be convulsed and embarrassed by yet another common spasm. Not that he ever believed, after Mr Questing’s outburst, that there was much hope of the Claires settling back into their old way of life. It seemed to Dikon that Mr Questing had been out for blood. A marked increase in Colonel Claire’s vagueness, together with an air of bewildered misery, suggested that he had been faced with an ultimatum. Dikon had come upon Mrs Claire on her knees before an old trunk, shaking her head over Edwardian photographs and aimlessly arranging them in heaps. When she saw him she murmured something about clinging to one’s household gods wherever one went. Barbara, who had taken to confiding in Dikon, told him that she had sworn Simon to secrecy over the incident by the lake, but that Questing had been closeted with her father for half an hour, still wearing his bloodstained shirt, and had no doubt given the Colonel his own version of the affray. Dikon had described the scene by the lake to Gaunt and, halfway through the recital, wished he had left it alone. Gaunt was surprisingly interested. ‘It really is most intriguing,’ he said, rubbing his delicate hands together. ‘I was right about the girl, you see. She has got something. I’m never mistaken. She’s incredibly gauche, she talks like a madwoman, and she grimaces like a monkey. That’s simply because she’s raw, uncertain of herself. It’s the bone one should look at. Show me a good bone, and a pair of eyes, give me a free hand, and I’ll create beauty. She’s roused the unspeakable Questing, you see.’

‘But Questing has his eye on the place.’

‘Nobody, my dear Dikon, for the sake of seven squalid mud puddles is going to marry a woman who doesn’t attract him. No, no, the girl’s got something. I’ve been talking to her. Studying her. I tell you I’m never mistaken. You remember that understudy child at the Unicorn? I saw there was something in her. I told the management. She’s never looked back. It’s a flair one has. I could…’ Gaunt paused and took his chin between his thumb and forefinger. ‘It would be rather fun to try,’ he said.

With a sensation of panic, Dikon said: ‘To try what, sir?’

‘Dikon, shall I make Barbara Claire a present? What was the name of the dress shop we noticed in Auckland? Near the hotel? Quite good? You must remember. A ridiculous name.’

‘I don’t remember.’