Charlie had replaced the wooden claymore with its fellow on the back wall. Peregrine, having put his papers in order, laboured up on to the stage and made his way through pieces of scenery and book wings that had been set up as temporary backing. Only the working light had been left on and it was dark enough in this no-man’s-land for him to go carefully. He was quite startled to see the figure of a small boy with its back towards him. Looking up at the claymore.

‘William!’ he said. William turned. His face was white but he said, ‘Hullo, sir,’ loudly.

‘What are you doing here? You weren’t called.’

‘I wanted to see you, sir.’

‘You did? Well, here I am.’

‘You hurt yourself on the wooden claymore,’ the treble voice stated.

‘What makes you think that?’

‘I was there. Backstage. When you jumped, I saw you.’

‘You had no business to be there, William. You come only when you are called and stay in front when you are not working. What were you doing backstage?’

‘Looking at my claymore. Mr Sears said I could have one of them after we opened. I wanted to choose the one that was least knocked about.’

‘I see. Come here. Where I can see you properly.’

William came at once. He stood to attention and clenched his hands.

‘Go on,’ said Peregrine.

‘I took it down: it was very dark. I brought it into the better light. It was still pretty dark but I examined it. Before I could get back there and hang it up, the witches came and started rehearsing. Down on the main stage. I hid it under the canvas. I was very careful to hide it where I thought nobody would fall. And I hid, too. I saw you fall. I heard you say you were all right.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes.’

After a considerable pause, William went on. ‘I knew you weren’t really all right because I heard you swear. But you got up. So I sneaked off and waited till there was only Charlie left and he was whistling. So I bolted.’

‘And why did you want to see me today?’

‘To tell you.’

‘Has something else happened?’

‘In a way.’

‘Let’s have it, then.’

‘It’s Miss Gaythorne. She keeps on about the curse.’

‘The curse?’

‘On the play. Now she’s on about things happening. She makes out the sword under the cover is mixed up with all the things that go wrong with Macbeth, with – ‘ William corrected himself – ‘the Scots play. She reckons she wants to sprinkle holy water or something and say things. I dunno. It sounds like a lot of hogwash to me but she goes on and on and of course the claymore’s all my doing, isn’t it? Nothing to do with this other stuff.’

‘Nothing in the wide world.’

‘Anyway, I’m sorry you’ve copped one, sir. I am really.’