But now that there was a sudden lull the Doctor, reinforced this time by Irma, managed to shift the twins by means of a mixture of deference and force and to get them established by the fire. Steerpike, who had vanished from the room, now returned with another pot of coffee and two more cups. It was this sort of thing that pleased Irma, and she tilted her head on its neck and turned up the corners of her mouth into something approaching the coy.

But when the coffee was passed to the twins they did not want it. One, taking her cue from the other, decided that she, or the other one, or possibly both, or neither, did not want it.

Would they have anything to drink? Cognac, sherry, brandy, a liqueur, cherry wine …?

They shook their heads profoundly.

‘We only came for a moment,’ said Cora.

‘Because we were passing,’ said Clarice. ‘That’s the only reason.’

But although they refused on those grounds to indulge in a drink of any sort, yet they gave no indication of being in a hurry to go, nor had they for a long time anything to say, but were quite content to sit and stare at Steerpike.

But after a long interval, halfway through which the Doctor and his sister had given up all attempts to make conversation, Cora turned her face to Steerpike.

‘Boy,’ she said, ‘what are you here for?’

‘Yes,’ echoed Clarice, ‘that’s what we want to know.’

‘I want,’ said Steerpike, choosing his words, ‘only your gracious patronage, your Ladyships. Only your favour.’

The twins turned their faces towards each other and then at the same moment they returned them to Steerpike.

‘Say that again,’ said Cora.

‘All of it,’ said Clarice.

‘Only your gracious patronage, your Ladyships. Only your favour. That is what I want.’

‘Well, we’ll give it you,’ said Clarice. But for the first time the sisters were at variance for a moment.

‘Not yet,’ said Cora. ‘It’s too soon for that.’

‘Much too soon,’ agreed Clarice. ‘It’s not time yet to give him any favour at all. What’s his name?’

This was addressed to Steerpike.

‘His name is Steerpike,’ was the youth’s reply.

Clarice leaned forward in her chair and whispered to Cora across the hearthrug: ‘His name is Steerpike.’

‘Why not?’ said her sister flatly. ‘It will do.’

Steerpike was, of course, alive with ideas and projects. These two half-witted women were a gift. That they should be the sisters of Lord Sepulchrave was of tremendous strategic value. They would prove an advance on the Prunesquallors, if not intellectually at any rate socially, and that at the moment was what mattered. And in any case, the lower the mentality of his employers the more scope for his own projects.