‘Papa had a lovely time last week looking out the Macbeth clothes,’ Thomas continued. ‘I wonder if you remember his costume. Motley did it for us. It’s red, a Paul Veroniseish red, dark but clear, with a smoky overcloak. We’ve got a miniature theatre at Ancreton, you know. I brought down the original backdrop for one of the inset scenes and hung it. It’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it,’ Thomas went on innocently, ‘that you did the original designs for that production? Of course, you remember the one I mean. It’s very simple. A boldly distorted castle form seen in silhouette. He dressed himself and stood in front of it, resting on his claymore with his head stooped, as if listening. “Good things of day begin to droop and drowse,” do you remember?’

Troy remembered that line very well. It was strange that he should have recalled it; for Alleyn was fond of telling her how, in the small hours of a stormy morning, a constable on night duty had once quoted it to him. Thomas, speaking the line, with an actor’s sense of its value, sounded like an echo of her husband, and her thoughts were filled with memories of his voice.

‘—He’s been ill off and on for some time,’ Thomas was saying, ‘and gets very depressed. But the idea of the portrait bucked him up no end, and he’s set his heart on you to paint it. You see, you did his hated rival.’

‘Sir Benjamin Corporal?’ Troy muttered, eyeing Katti.

‘Yes. And old Ben makes a great story about how you only paint subjects that you take a fancy to—pictorially, I mean. He told us you took a great fancy to him pictorially. He said he was the only actor you’d ever wanted to paint.’

‘On the contrary,’ Troy said angrily. ‘It was a commission from his native town—Huddersfield. Old popinjay!’

‘He told Papa he’d only be snubbed if he approached you. Actually, Papa was dressed as Macbeth when your telegram arrived. He said: “Ah! This is propitious. Do you think, my dear, that Miss Troy—should he have said ‘Mrs Alleyn?’—will care for this pose?” He was quite young-looking when he said it. And then he opened your telegram. He took it rather well, really. He just gave it to Milly, and said: “I shouldn’t have put on these garments. It was always an unlucky piece. I’m a vain old fool.” And he went away and changed and had an attack of gastroenteritis, poor thing. It must almost be time I thought of walking back to the station, mustn’t it?’

‘I’ll drive you,’ Troy said.

Thomas protested mildly, but Troy overruled him brusquely when the time came, and went off to start her car. Thomas said goodbye politely to Katti Bostock.

‘You’re a clever chap, Mr Ancred,’ said Katti grimly.