But here, marking the title page of Hamlet’s retelling, was a ticket to the premiere of his acclaimed run as the Danish Prince at the Old Vic in 1917.

Prentice Symmons slid from his bed to the floor and wept.

PRENTICE SPENT MUCH OF the following day in his room. When he woke, he neither showered nor shaved. When his regular breakfast was served, he left half the potatoes uneaten beside the remnants of egg and did not ring for the service to be cleared. He sat on the couch in his robe as the room filled with the odor of the unfinished breakfast and as the minutes dismantled the hours. In the early afternoon, he heard the chambermaids knocking on doors and pushing their linen-laden trollies. When they knocked upon his, he fully intended to call out that they were not needed. But when he heard Bridie’s voice, from some force of habit he invited her in.

A professional young Irish woman and mother of six, Bridie did not display the slightest surprise to find Prentice in his robe. But within the instant she had whisked his plates into the hall, drawn the curtains, and cracked the terrace window to admit fresh air. When she went into the bedroom, he watched her through the open door. He watched as she returned his shoes and jacket to their closet. He watched as she made the bed with efficiency and care, snapping the fresh sheets and tucking them tightly into place. He watched as she rinsed his unused shaving brush and hung it on its golden hook to dry. And when she had finished, he roused himself from the couch and thanked her as one who thanks a chance apostle for the telling of a timely parable.

It was after three o’clock.

He bathed and dressed in a three-piece suit with a well-wound watch in his vest and set out for tea. Evelyn did not appear, but she had been kind enough to leave a note of regret on his chair and a promise to see him anon. This unnecessary gesture (coming in concert with the rare treat of cranberry scones) completed the revival of his spirits. And it was this revival, no doubt, that led him to play the part of a fool.

For when his tea had been cleared, Prentice happened to notice that lingering by the front desk was a certain actor-of-the-moment—an actor whom as a younger man had played a supporting role in one of Prentice’s finest films. And rather than keeping his counsel, Prentice strolled across the lobby with his cane in hand, calling out the actor’s name.