‘I suppose we had,’ said Fox heavily.

IV

The auditions were nearly over and the play fully cast from the present company. In the office, announcements for the Press were being telephoned and Peregrine actually felt better. Whatever the outcome and whoever was arrested, they were doing their own thing. In their own theatre. They were doing what they were meant to do: getting on with a new piece.

The discordant note was sounded, needless to say, by Gaston. He had not, of course, auditioned but nor had he left the theatre. No sooner had an audition finished than he began. He buttonholed one nervous actor after another and his subject was the claidheamh-mor. He wanted it back. Urgently. They tried to shut him up but he kept recurring like a decimal and complaining in an audible rumble that he would not be held responsible for anything that happened to anyone into whose care it had been consigned.

He asked to see Alleyn and was told he and Fox had left the theatre. Where had they gone? Nobody knew.

At last Peregrine stopped Rangi’s audition and said he could not allow Gaston into the auditorium while they were working. What did he want?

‘My claidheamh-mor,’ he roared. ‘How often must I say it? Are you an idiot, have you not been given sufficient evidence of what it can do if a desecrating hand is laid upon it? It is my fault,’ he shouted. ‘I allowed it to become involved in this sanguinary play. I released its power. You have only to study its history to realize – ‘

‘Gaston! Stop! We are busy and it is no affair of ours. We have not time to listen to your diatribe and it is not within my sphere of activities to demand the thing’s return. In any case I wouldn’t get it. Do pipe down like a good chap. The weapon is perfectly safe in police custody and will be returned in due course.’

‘Safe!’ Gaston cried, swinging his arms about alarmingly. ‘Safe! You will drive me demented.’

‘Not far to go,’ remarked a splendid voice in the back stalls.

‘Who made that repulsive observation?’

‘I did,’ said Barrabell. ‘In my opinion you’re certifiable. In any correctly ordered state – ‘

‘Shut up, both of you,’ Peregrine cried. ‘Good Lord! Haven’t we had enough to put up with! If you two can’t pipe down, at least go out of earshot and get on with it in the yard.’

‘I shall bring this up with Equity. It is not the first time I have been insulted in this theatre – ‘

‘– my claidheamh-mor. I implore you to consider – ‘

‘Gaston! Answer me. Are you here to audition? Yes or no.’

‘I am here – No.’

‘Barrabell, are you here to audition?’

‘I was. I now see that it would be useless.’