‘How dare you!’ roared Gaston suddenly. ‘I, who have taught you a fight that is authentic in every detail except the actual shedding of blood! How dare you, sir, refer to my silly old trap?’

‘I do. I do dare,’ Sir Dougal announced petulantly. ‘I’m still in great pain from the physical strain I’ve been obliged to suffer and all for something that would be better achieved by a good fake and if you won’t shut up, by God, I’ll use your precious techniques to make you. I beg your pardon, Perry, dear boy, but really!’

Gaston had removed his claidheamh-mor from his harness and now, shouting insults in what may have been early Scots, performed some aggressive and alarming exercises with the weapon. The magnificent Duncan, who was beside him, cried out and backed away. ‘I say!’ he protested. ‘Don’t! No! Too much!’

Gaston stamped, and rotated his formidable weapon.

‘Put that damn silly thing away,’ said Sir Dougal. ‘Whatever it’s called: “Gladtime Saw”. You’ll hurt yourself.’

‘Quiet!’ Perry shouted. ‘Gaston! Stop it. At once.’

Gaston did stop. He saluted and returned the weapon to its sheath, a leather pouch which hung by straps from his heavy belt and occupied the place where a sporran would have rested. The hilts being established there, the monstrous blade rose in front of his body and was grasped by his gloved paws. It passed within an inch of his nose, causing him to squint.

Thus armed, he retired and stood to attention, squinting hideously and rumbling industriously by Maggie’s throne. She gave one terrified look at him and then burst out laughing.

So after a doubtful glance did the entire company and the people in the stalls, including Emily.

Gaston stood to attention throughout.

Peregrine wiped the tears from his face, walked up to Gaston, put his arm round his shoulders and took the risk of his life.

‘Gaston, my dear boy,’ he said, ‘you have taught us how to meet these ridiculous pranks. Thank you.’

Gaston rumbled. ‘What did you say?’

‘Honi soit qui mal y pense.’

‘Exactly,’ agreed Peregrine, and wondered if it was really an appropriate remark. ‘Well, everybody,’ he said, ‘we don’t know who played this trick and for the time being we’ll let it rest. Will you all turn your backs for a moment.’

They did so. He whipped off the lid, wrapped the head in its cloak, took it backstage to the property table and returned.

‘Right!’ he said. ‘From where we left off, please.’

‘“Our duties and the pledge,”’ said the prompter.

‘Yes. Places, everybody. Are you ready, Sir Dougal, or would you like to break?’

‘I’ll go on.’

‘Good. Thank you.’

And they went on to the end of the play.

When it was all over and he had taken his notes and gone through the bits that needed adjustment, Peregrine made a little speech to his cast.