‘So you ought to be. It’s much better. Look here, William: have you spoken to anyone else about this?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Word of a gentleman?’ said Peregrine, and wondered if it was comically snobbish.

‘No. I haven’t – not a word.’

‘Then don’t. Except to me, if you want to. If they know I’m hurt because of the claymore they’ll go weaving all sorts of superstitious rot-gut about the play and it’ll get about and be bad for business. Mum’s the word. OK? But I may say something. I’m not sure.’

‘OK.’

‘And you’ll get your claymore but no funny business with it.’

William looked blankly at him.

‘No swiping it round. Ceremonial use only. Understood?’

‘I’ve understood all right.’

‘Agreed?’

‘I suppose so,’ William muttered.

Peregrine reminded himself that William was certainly unable to raise the weapon more than waist high, if that, and decided not to insist. They shook hands and paid a visit to the Junior Dolphin at a quarter to six, where William consumed an unbelievable quantity of crumpets and fizzy drink. He seemed to have recovered his sang—froid.

Peregrine drove him home to a minute house in a tidy little street in Lambeth. The curtains were not yet drawn but the room was lit and he could see a pleasant picture, a fully stocked bookcase and a good armchair. Mrs Smith came to the window and looked out before shutting the room away.

William invited him in.

‘I’ll deliver you but I won’t come in, thank you. I’m due at home. Overdue, in fact.’

A brisk knock brought William’s mother to the door, a woman who was worn down to the lowest common denominator. She was dressed in a good but not new coat and skirt and spoke incisively.

‘I’ve got a call to make in this part of the world so I’ve brought William home,’ said Peregrine. ‘He’s aged nine, isn’t he?’

‘Yes. Only just.’

‘In that case I’m afraid we’ll have to find a second boy for alternate nights. It’s not going to be easy but that’s the rule. I’ll try and bend it. You don’t know of one, I suppose, do you?’

‘I’m afraid not. I expect his school would provide.’

‘I expect so. I’ve got their address. We’ll just have to go to the usual sources,’ Peregrine said. He took off his hat. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Smith. The boy’s doing very well.’

‘I’m glad. Goodbye.’

‘’Bye, William.’

‘Goodbye, sir.’