‘I’m getting sick of it,’ Morris said. ‘Matter-of-fact it’s on my desk now.’ He lifted a sheet of blotting paper and riffled the pages of the typewritten document he exposed. ‘Still,’ he said, ‘he’s signed and he can’t get past that one. We almost had to provide an extra page for it. Take a gander.’

The enormous and completely illegible signature did indeed occupy a surprising area. Peregrine glanced at it and then looked more closely.

‘I’ve seen that before,’ he said. ‘It looks like a cyclone.’

‘Once seen never forgotten.’

‘I’ve seen it,’ Peregrine said, ‘recently. Where, I wonder.’

Winter Morris looked bored.

‘Did he sign your autograph book?’ he asked bitterly.

‘It was somewhere unexpected. Ah, well. Never mind. The fun will start with the first rehearsal. He’ll want me to rewrite his part, of course, adding great hunks of ham and corn and any amount of fat. It’s tricky enough as it is. Strictly speaking a playwright shouldn’t direct his own stuff. He’s too tender with it. But it’s been done before and by the Lord I mean to do it again. Marco or no Marco. He looks like the Grafton portrait of Shakespeare. He’s got the voice of an angel and colossal prestige. He’s a brilliant actor and this is a part he can play. It’ll be a ding-dong go which of us wins but by heaven I’m game if he is.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Morris. ‘Live for ever, dear boy. Live for ever.’

They settled at their respective desks. Presently Peregrine’s buzzer rang and a young woman provided by the management and secreted in an auxiliary cubby-hole said: ‘Victoria and Albert for you, Mr Jay.’

Peregrine refrained from saying: ‘Always available to Her Majesty and the Prince Consort.’ He was too apprehensive. He said: ‘Oh yes. Right. Thank you,’ and was put into communication with the expert.

‘Mr Jay,’ the expert said, ‘is this a convenient time for you to speak?’

‘Certainly.’

‘I thought it best to have a word with you. We will, of course, write formally with full reports for you to hand to your principal but I felt – really,’ said the expert and his voice, Peregrine noticed with mounting excitement, was trembling, ‘really, it is the most remarkable thing. I – well, to be brief with you, the writing in question has been exhaustively examined. It has been compared by three experts with the known signatures and they find enough coincidence to give the strongest presumption of identical authorship. They are perfectly satisfied as to the age of the cheverel and the writing materials and that apart from salt-water stains there has been no subsequent interference. In fact, my dear Mr Jay, incredible as one might think it, the glove and the document actually seem to be what they purport to be.’