Jobbins appeared on the stairs. He wore an extremely loud brown, black and white checked overcoat, a woollen cap and carpet slippers.

‘Good lord!’ Peregrine ejaculated. ‘Are you going to the Dogs or Ally Pally or what? Where’s your brown bowler?’

‘You again, guv?’ Jobbins wheezed. ‘I’d of ‘eld back me quick change if I’d known. Pardon the dishy-bill. Present from a toff this ‘ere coat is and very welcome. Gets chilly,’ he said descending, ‘between nah and the witching ar, when my relief comes in. What’s this abaht a seat?’

Peregrine explained. To his astonishment Jobbins pushed the doors open, strode into the auditorium and uttered in a sort of hoarse bellow –

‘Nah then. Out of it. Come on. You ‘eard.’

Silence.

Then Emily’s voice sounded worried and lonely: ‘What goes on?’ She had groped her way down into the house.

‘It’s all right,’ Peregrine shouted. ‘Won’t be long.’ And to Jobbins: ‘What does go on? You sound as if you’re used to this.’

‘Which I am,’ Jobbins sourly endorsed. ‘It’s that perishing childwonder, that’s what it is. ’E done it before and ‘e’ll do it again and once too often.’

‘Does what?’

“‘Angs abaht.’Is mum plays the steel guitar in a caff, see, acrost the river. She knocks off at eleven and ’er ’earts-delight sallies forth to greet ’er at the top of the lane. And ’e fills in the gap, buggering rhand the theyater trying to make out ’e’s a robber or a spectrum. ’E knows full well I can’t leave me post so ’e ’ides ’isself in various dark regions. “’Ands Up,” ’e yells. “Stick ’em up,” ’e ’owls, and crawls under the seats making noises like ’e’s bein’ strangulated which ’e will be if ever I lay me ‘ands on ’im. Innit marvellous?’

From somewhere backstage a single plangent sound rang out and faded. It was followed by an eldritch screech of laughter, a cat-call and a loud slam.

‘There ’e goes,’ said Jobbins and flung an ejaculation of startling obscenity into the auditorium.

‘I’ll get that little bastard,’ Peregrine said. He foolishly made a dash for the treble-locked doors into the portico.

‘You’ll never catch ‘im, guv,’ Jobbins said. His voice had almost vanished with excessive vocal exercise. ’E’ll be ‘alf-way up the lane and going strong. His mum meets ’im at the top when she’s sober.’

‘I’ll have the hide off him tomorrow,’ Peregrine said. ‘All right, Jobbins. I’ll see you’re not pestered again. And anyway as far as the treasure is concerned this is your last watch.’

‘That’s right, sir. Positively the last appearance in this epoch-making role.’

‘Good night again.’

‘Good night, guv. Best of British luck.’

Peregrine went into the stalls. ‘Emily!’ he called. ‘Where are you, my poor girl?’

‘Here,’ Emily said, coming up the aisle.

‘Did you see the little swine?’