By half-past twelve most of the company on the stage seemed to be asleep or dozing. Dr Rutherford on his couch occasionally lapsed into bouts of snoring from which he would rouse a little, groan, take snuff and then settle down again. Helena lay in a deep chair with her feet on a stool. Her eyes were closed but Martyn thought that if she slept it was but lightly. Clem had made himself a bed of some old curtains and was curled up on it beyond the twisting stairway. Jacko, having tucked Helena up in her fur coat, settled himself on the stage beside her, dozing, Martyn thought, like some eccentric watch-dog at his post. J.G. and Gay Gainsford were summoned in turn and in turn came back, J.G. silently, Gay with some attempt at conversation. In the presence of the watchful Mr Fox this soon petered out. Presently she, too, fell to nodding. Immediately after her return Parry Percival suddenly made an inarticulate ejaculation and, before Fox could move, darted off the stage. Sergeant Gibson was heard to accost him in the passage. Fox remained where he was and there was another long silence.

Adam Poole and Martyn looked into each other’s faces. He crossed the stage to where she sat, on the left side which was the farthest removed from Fox. He pulled up a small chair and sat facing her.

‘Kate,’ he muttered, ‘I’m so sorry about all this. There are hare’s-foot shadows under your eyes, your mouth droops, your hands are anxious and your hair is limp though not at all unbecoming. You should be sound asleep in Jacko’s garret under the stars and there should be the sound of applause in your dreams. Really, it’s too bad.’

Martyn said: ‘It’s nice of you to think so but you have other things to consider.’

‘I’m glad to have my thoughts interrupted.’

‘Then I still have my uses.’

‘You can see that chunk of a man over there. Is he watching us?’

‘Yes. With an air of absent-mindedness which I’m not at all inclined to misunderstand.’

‘I don’t think he can hear us though it’s a pity my diction is so good. If I take your hand perhaps he’ll suppose I’m making love to you and feel some slight constabular delicacy.’

‘I hardly think so,’ Martyn whispered and tried to make nothing of his lips against her palm.

‘Will you believe, Kate, that I am not in the habit of making passes at young ladies in my company?’

Martyn found herself looking at the back of Helena’s chair.

‘Oh, yes,’ Poole said. ‘There’s that, too. I make no bones about that. It’s another and a long and fading story. On both parts. Fading, on both parts, Kate. I have been very much honoured.’