‘Irma, my dear sister,’ said Prunesquallor, ‘I have two things to say. Firstly, why in the name of discomfort are we hanging around in the hall and probably dying of a draught that as far as I am concerned runs up my right trouser leg and sets my gluteous maximus twitching; and secondly, what is wrong, when you boil the matter down – with feet? I have always found mine singularly useful, especially for walking with. In fact, ha, ha, ha, one might almost imagine that they had been designed for that very purpose.’

‘As usual,’ said his sister, ‘you are drunk with your own levity. You have a brain, Alfred. I have never denied it. Never. But it is undermined by your insufferable levity. I tell you that someone has been prowling about upstairs and you take no notice. There has been no one to prowl. Do you not see the point?’

‘I heard something, too,’ said Steerpike, breaking in. ‘I was sitting in the hall where the Doctor suggested I should remain while he decided in what capacity he would employ me, when I heard what sounded like footsteps upstairs. I crept to the top of the stairs silently, but there was no one there, so I returned.’

Steerpike, thinking the upstairs to be empty, had in reality been making a rough survey of the first floor, until he heard what must have been Irma moving to the door of her room, at which sound he had slid down the banisters.

‘You hear what he says,’ said the lady, following her brother with a stiff irritation in every line of her progress. ‘You hear what he says.’

‘Very much so!’ said the Doctor, ‘Very much so, indeed. Most indigestible.’

Steerpike moved a chair up for Irma Prunesquallor with such a show of consideration for her comfort and such adroitness that she stared at him and her hard mouth relaxed at one corner.

‘Steerpike,’ she said, wrinkling her black dress above her hips as she reclined a little into her chair.

‘I am at your service, madam,’ said Steerpike. ‘What may I do for you?’

‘What on earth are you wearing? What are you wearing, boy?’

‘It is with great regret that at my introduction to you I should be in clothes that so belie my fastidious nature, madam,’ he said. ‘If you will advise me where I may procure the cloth I will endeavour to have myself fitted tomorrow. Standing beside you, madam, in your exquisite gown of darkness –’

‘“Gown of darkness” is good,’ interrupted Prunesquallor, raising his hand to his head, where he spread his snow-white fingers across his brow, ‘“Gown of darkness”. A phrase, ha, ha! Definitely a phrase.’