‘What do you connect them with?’

‘With noises made by Trevor, I think. And then, with Conducis. With the morning when he showed me the treasure. But of course then I was drunk so I’m unreliable in any case. However: tell me what you want to know and I’ll see about answering.’

‘Too kind,’ said Alleyn dryly. ‘Start with – anyone you like. Marcus Knight. What’s his background apart from the Press handouts? I know all about his old man’s stationer’s shop in West Ham and how he rose to fame. Is it true he’s temperamental?’

Peregrine looked relieved. ‘If it’s only that sort of thing! He’s hell and well-known for it but he’s such a superb actor we all do our best to lump the temperament. He’s a jolly nice man really, I daresay, and collects stamps but he can’t take the lightest criticism without going up like a rocket. An unfavourable notice is death to him and he’s as vain as a peacock. But people say he’s a sweetie at bottom even if it’s a fair way to bottom.’

Alleyn had strolled over to a display of photographs on the far wall: all the members of the cast in character with their signatures appended. Marcus Knight had been treated to a montage with his own image startlingly echoed by the ‘Grafton Portrait’ and the Droushout engraving. Peregrine joined him.

‘Extraordinary,’ Alleyn said. ‘The likeness. What a piece of luck!’ He turned to Peregrine and found him staring, not at the picture but at the signature.

‘Bold!’ Alleyn said dryly.

‘Yes. But it’s not that. There’s something about it. Damn! I thought so before. Something I’ve forgotten.’

‘You may yet remember. Leave it. Tell me: is the sort of ribbing Knight got from Grove just now their usual form? All the King Dolphin nonsense?’

‘Pretty much. It goes on.’

‘If he’s as touchy as you say, why on earth hasn’t Knight shaken the Dolphin dust off his boots? Why does he stand it for one second?’

‘I think,’ Peregrine said with great simplicity, ‘he likes his part. I think that might be it.’

‘My dear Jay, I really do apologize: Of course he does. It’s no doubt the best role, outside Shakespeare, that he’ll ever play.’

‘Do you think so? Really?’

‘Indeed I do.’

Peregrine suddenly looked deeply happy. ‘Now, of course,’ he said, ‘I’m completely wooed.’

‘What can it matter what I think! You must know how good your play is.’

‘Yes, but I like to be told. From which,’ Peregrine said, ‘you may gather that I have a temperamental link with Marco Knight.’

‘Were he and Destiny Meade lovers?’

‘Oh yes. Going steady, it seemed, until Harry chucked poor Gertie and came rollicking in. We thought the casting was going to work out very cosily with Dessy and Marco as happy as Larry on the one hand and Gertie and Harry nicely fixed on the other. Maddening, this dodging round in a company. It always makes trouble. And with Marco’s capacity to cut up plug-ugly at the drop of a hat – anything might happen. We can only keep our fingers crossed.’