He began to talk excitedly. He talked about The Dolphin and about how it must have looked after Mr Adolphus Ruby had gloriously tarted it up. He described how, before he fell into the well, he had imagined the house: clean, sparkling with lights from chandeliers, full, warm, buzzing and expectant. He said that it was the last of its kind and so well designed with such a surprisingly large stage that it would be possible to mount big productions there.

He forgot about Mr Conducis and also about not drinking any more rum. He talked widely and distractedly.

‘Think what a thing it would be,’ Peregrine cried, ‘to do a season of Shakespeare’s comedies! Imagine Love’s Labour’s there. Perhaps one could have a barge – Yes. The Grey Dolphin – and people could take water to go to the play. When the play was about to begin we would run up a flag with a terribly intelligent dolphin on it. And we’d do them quickly and lightly and with elegance and O!’ cried Peregrine, ‘and with that little catch in the breath that never, never comes in the same way with any other playwright.’

He was now walking about Mr Conducis’s library. He saw, without seeing, the tooled spines of collected editions and a picture that he would remember afterwards with astonishment. He waved his arms. He shouted.

‘There never was such a plan,’ shouted Peregrine. ‘Never in all London since Burbage moved the first theatre from Shoreditch to Southwark.’ He found himself near his drink and tossed it off. ‘And not too fancy,’ he said, ‘mind you. Not twee. God, no! Not a pastiche either. Just a good theatre doing the job it was meant to do. And doing the stuff that doesn’t belong to any bloody Method or Movement or Trend or Period or what-have-you. Mind that.’

‘You refer to Shakespeare again?’ said Mr Conducis’s voice. ‘If I follow you.’

‘Of course I do!’ Peregrine suddenly became fully aware of Mr Conducis. ‘Oh dear!’ he said.

‘Is something the matter?’

‘I’m afraid I’m a bit tight, sir. Not really tight but a bit uninhibited. I’m awfully sorry. I think perhaps I’d better take myself off and I’ll return all these things you’ve so kindly lent me. I’ll return them as soon as possible, of course. So, if you’ll forgive me –’

‘What do you do in the theatre?’

‘I direct plays and I’ve written two.’

‘I know nothing of the theatre,’ Mr Conducis said heavily. ‘You are reasonably successful?’

‘Well, sir, yes. I think so. It’s a jungle, of course. I’m not at all affluent but I make out. I’ve had as much work as I could cope with over the last three months and I think my mana’s going up. I hope so. Goodbye, sir.’