‘So glad,’ she said to both of them, ‘that you decided to come.’ The kiss that accompanied this greeting was tinctured with forbearance and what passed with Miss Bellamy for charity. It also, in some ineffable manner, seemed to convey a threat. They were meant to receive it like a sacrament and (however reluctantly) they did so, progressing on the conveyor belt of hospitality to Charles, who was markedly cordial to both of them.

They passed on down the long drawing-room and were followed by two Dames, a Knight, three distinguished commoners, another Knight and his Lady, Montague Marchant and Timon Gantry.

Richard, filling his established role of a sort of unofficial son of the house, took over the guests as they came his way. He was expected to pilot them through the bottleneck of the intake and encourage them to move to the dining-room and conservatory. He also helped the hired barman and the housemaid with the drinks until Gracefield and the parlourmaid were able to carry on. He was profoundly uneasy. He had been out to lunch and late returning and had had no chance to speak to Mary before the first guests appeared. But he knew that all was not well. There were certain only-too-unmistakable signs, of which a slight twitch in Mary’s triangular smile was the most ominous. ‘There’s been another temperament,’ Richard thought, and he fancied he saw confirmation of this in Charles, whose hands were not quite steady and whose face was unevenly patched.

The rooms filled up. He kept looking towards the door and thinking he saw Anelida.

Timon Gantry came up to him. ‘I’ve been talking to Monty,’ he said. ‘Have you got a typescript for him?’

‘Timmy, how kind of you! Yes, of course.’

‘Here?’

‘Yes. Mary’s got one. She said she’d leave it in my old room upstairs.’

‘ ‘Mary! Why?’

‘I always show her my things.’

Gantry looked at him for a moment, gave his little gasp and then said: ‘I see I must speak frankly. Will Mary think you wrote the part for her?’

Richard said: ‘I – that was not my intention …’

‘Because you’d better understand at once, Dicky, that I wouldn’t dream of producing this play with Mary in the lead. Nor would I dream of advising The Management to back it with Mary in the lead. Nor could it be anything but a disastrous flop with Mary in the lead. Is that clear?’

‘Abundantly,’ Richard said.

‘Moreover,’ Gantry said, ‘I should be lacking in honesty and friendship if I didn’t tell you it was high time you cut loose from those particular apron strings. Thank you, I would prefer whisky and water.’