Cover Page

Dedication

For Edmund Cork in gratitude and with affection

Cast of Characters

A clerk

Peregrine Jay—Playwright and Theatre Director

Henry Jobbins—Caretaker

Mr Vassily Conducis

His Chauffeur

Mawson—His manservant

Jeremy Jones—Designer

Mr Greenslade—Solicitor to Mr Conducis

An Expert on Historic Costume

Winter Morris—Manager, Dolphin Theatre

Marcus Knight—‘Shakespeare’ in Peregrine’s play

Destiny Meade—‘The Dark Lady’ in Peregrine’s play

W. Hartly Grove—‘The Rival’ in Peregrine’s play

Gertrude Bracey—‘Ann Hathaway’ in Peregrine’s play

Emily Dunne—‘Joan Hart’ in Peregrine’s play

Charles Random—‘Dr Hall’ in Peregrine’s play

Trevor Vere—‘Hamnet’ in Peregrine’s play

Mrs Blewitt—Trevor’s mother

Hawkins—A Security Officer

A Police Sergeant

Divisional-Superintendent Gibson

PC Grantley

A Divisional Surgeon

Superintendent Roderick Alleyn CID

Inspector Fox CID

Detective Sergeant Thompson CID

Detective Sergeant Bailey CID

Mrs Guzman—An American millionairess

CHAPTER 1
Mr Conducis

‘Dolphin?’ the clerk repeated. ‘Dolphin. Well, yerse. We hold the keys. Were you wanting to view?’

‘If I might, I was,’ Peregrine Jay mumbled, wondering why such conversations should always be conducted in the past tense. ‘I mean,’ he added boldly, ‘I did and I still do. I want to view, if you please.’

The clerk made a little face that might have been a sneer or an occupational tic. He glanced at Peregrine, who supposed his appearance was not glossy enough to make him a likely prospect.

‘It is for sale, I believe?’ Peregrine said.

‘Oh, it’s for sale, all right.’ The clerk agreed contemptuously. He re-examined some document that he had on his desk.

‘May I view?’

‘Now?’

‘If it’s possible.’

‘Well – I don’t know, really, if we’ve anybody free at the moment,’ said the clerk and frowned at the rain streaming dirtily down the windows of his office.

Peregrine said, ‘Look. The Dolphin is an old theatre. I am a man of the theatre. Here is my card. If you care to telephone my agents or the management of my current production at The Unicorn they will tell you that I am honest, sober and industrious, a bloody good director and playwright and possessed of whatever further attributes may move you to lend me the keys of The Dolphin for an hour. I would like,’ he said, ‘to view it.’

The clerk’s face became inscrutable. ‘Oh, quite,’ he muttered and edged Peregrine’s card across his desk, looking sideways at it as if it might scuttle. He retired within himself and seemed to arrive at a guarded conclusion.

‘Yerse. Well, OK, Mr er. It’s not usually done but we try to oblige.’ He turned to a dirty-white board where keys hung like black tufts on a piece of disreputable ermine.