‘Some idiot’s rigged a bloody mask in the King’s Chamber. One of those Banquo things of Gaston’s. Open mouth, blood running out of it. Bulging eyes. I don’t mind telling you it shocked the pants off me.’

‘You might have warned me,’ said Sir Dougal.

‘I tried, didn’t I? Outside the door. You and Lennox. After I said “Destroy your sight with a new Gorgon.”’

‘You muttered something. I didn’t know what you were on about.’

‘I could hardly yell: “There’s a bloody head on the wall,” could I?’

‘All right, all right.’

‘When you went up the first time, Sir Dougal, was it there?’

‘Certainly not. Unless…’

‘Unless what?’

‘What’s the colour of the cloak attached to it?’

‘Dark grey,’ said Peregrine.

‘If it was covered by the cloak I might have missed it. It was dark up there.’

‘Who could have uncovered it?’

‘The grooms?’

‘What grooms? There are no grooms,’ said Simon. ‘Are you crazy?’

‘I was making a joke,’ said Sir Dougal with dignity.

‘Funny sort of joke, I must say.’

‘There’s some perfectly reasonable explanation,’ Peregrine said. ‘I’ll talk to the Property Master. Don’t let a damn silly thing like this upset you. You’re going very well indeed. Keep it up.’

He slapped them both on the shoulders, waited till they had gone and climbed the stairs to the room.

It was extremely dark: an opening off the head of the stairs with a door facing them. The audience saw only a small inside section of one wall when this door was open. The wall which would have a stone finish faced the audience and ran down to stage-level and the third wall, unseen by the audience, was simply used as a brace for the other two. It was a skeleton. A ladder was propped against the floor leading down to the stage. A ceiling, painted with joists, was nailed to the structure.

And looming in the darkest corner, facing the doorway, the murdered head of Banquo.

Peregrine knew what to expect but even so he got a jolt. The bulging eyes stared into his. The mouth gaped blood. His own mouth was dry and his hands wet. He walked towards it, touched it and it moved. It was fixed to a coat-hanger. The ends of the hanger rested on the corner pieces of the walls. The grey shroud had a hole, like a poncho, for the head. He touched it again and it rocked towards him and, with a whisper, fell.

Peregrine started back with an oath, shut the door and called out ‘Props!’

‘Here, guv.’

‘Come up, will you. Put the working light on.’

He picked the head up and returned it to its place. The working light took some of the horror out of it. Props’s head came up from below. When he arrived he turned and saw it.

‘Christ!’ he said.

‘Did you put that thing there?’