Dear Sir, Jeremy read. I am directed by Mr V. M. G. Conducis to inform you that he has given some consideration to the matter of The Dolphin Theatre, Wharfingers Lane, which he had occasion to discuss with you this morning. Mr Conducis would be interested to have the matter examined in greater detail. He suggests, therefore, that to this end you call at the office of Consolidated Oils, Pty Ltd, and speak to Mr S. Greenslade who has been fully informed of the subject in question. I enclose for your convenience a card with the address and a note of introduction.

I have ventured to make an appointment for you with Mr Greenslade for 11.30 tomorrow (Wednesday). If this is not a convenient time perhaps you will be good enough to telephone Mr Greenslade’s secretary before 5.30 this evening.

Mr Conducis asks me to beg that you will not trouble yourself to return the things he was glad to be able to offer after your most disagreeable accident for which, as he no doubt explained, he feels a deep sense of responsibility. He understands that your own clothes have been irretrievably spoilt and hopes that you will allow him to make what he feels is a most inadequate gesture by way of compensation. The clothes, by the way, have not been worn. If, however, you would prefer it, he hopes that you will allow him to replace your loss in a more conventional manner.

Mr Conducis will not himself take a direct part in any developments that may arise in respect of The Dolphin and does not wish at any juncture to be approached in the matter. Mr Greenslade has full authority to negotiate for him at all levels.

With Compliments,

I am,

Yours truly,

M. SMYTHIMAN

(Private Secretary to Mr Conducis)

‘Not true,’ Jeremy said, looking over the tops of his spectacles.

‘True. Apparently. As far as it goes.’

Jeremy read it again. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘at least he doesn’t want you to approach him. We’ve done him wrong, there.’

‘He doesn’t want to set eyes on me, thank God.’

‘Were you passionately eloquent, my poor Peregrine?’

‘It looks as if I must have been, doesn’t it? I was plastered, of course.’

‘I have a notion,’ Jeremy said with inconsequence, ‘that he was once wrecked at sea.’

‘Who?’

‘Conducis, you dolt. Who but? In his yacht.’

‘Was his yacht called Kalliope?’

‘I rather think so. I’m sure it went down.’

‘Perhaps my predicament reminded him of the experience.’