The company of Dolphins at the Swan was diminished but Rangi and Ross and Lennox were still regulars and on Monday they met there for lunch. Rangi was quiet and withdrawn. His dark eyes and brilliant teeth dominated his face and it struck the others that he looked more ‘native’ than he had before. But he was pleased with his new part, that of The Rival, an ambiguous gentleman from Italy, overdressed and wearing a single earring.

‘We start rehearsals tomorrow,’ said Ross. ‘Thank God without the ineffable Sears or dreary old Banquo. The whole tragedy as far as the Dolphin’s concerned is finished.’ He made a dismissive gesture with both hands.

‘It won’t be finished, my dear chap,’ said Lennox, ‘until somebody’s under lock and key.’

‘The stigma remains,’ said Rangi. ‘It must.’

‘I looked in this morning. It’s as clean as a whistle and smells of Jeyes’ Fluid everywhere.’

‘No policemen?’

‘Not then, no. Just the offices clicking over merrily. There’s a big notice out in front saying people can use their tickets for the new play or get their money back at the box office. And a board with nothing but rave notices from the former production of The Glove.’

‘Any reasons given?’

‘“Owing to unforeseen circumstances.”’

‘There’s a piece in the papers. I suppose you saw.’

Lennox said yes, he had read it.

‘I haven’t seen the papers,’ said Rangi.

‘It just says that Dougal died on Saturday night very suddenly in the theatre. And there’s the usual obituary: half a column and photographs. The Macbeth one’s very good,’ said Ross.

‘It said that “as a mark of respect” the theatre would be dark for three weeks,’ Ross added.

Rangi said, as if the words were dragged out of him: ‘It’s tapu. We all are tapu and will be until the murderer is found. And who will whakamana?’

There was an awkward silence.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Lennox said.

‘Better that you don’t,’ said Rangi. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘Understand what?’ asked Lennox.

‘Maoritanga.’

‘Maori how much?’

‘Shut up,’ said Ross, and kicked him underneath the table.

Lennox looked at Rangi and found something in his face that made him say hurriedly: ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.’

‘Not at all,’ said Rangi. He stood up. ‘I must get back. I’m late. Excuse me.’

He went to the counter, paid his bill and left.

‘What’s biting him?’ Lennox asked.

‘Lord knows. Something to do with the case, I imagine. He’ll get over it, whatever it is.’

‘I didn’t mean to be rude or anything. Well, I wasn’t, was I? I apologized.’

‘Perhaps you said something that upset his mana.’

‘Oh to hell with him and his mana. Where did you pick up the word anyway?’

‘In conversation with him. It means all sorts of things but pride is the principal one.’