‘You needn’t bother to pepper your replies with this “sir” business. It’s not in character and it’s entirely unconvincing. I’m thirty-eight. I toured New Zealand in my first job twenty years ago, and Bennington was in the company. That, apparently, is good enough for him. Under the circumstances I hope you won’t mind my asking you who your parents are and where you were born.’

‘I’ve no objection whatever,’ said Martyn with spirit. ‘My father was Martyn Tarne. He was the son and grandson of a high-country run-holder—a sheep-farmer—in the South Island. He was killed on Crete.’

He turned and looked directly at her for the first time since she had come into the room.

‘I see. And your mother?’

‘She’s the daughter of a run-holder in the same district?’

‘Do you mind telling me her maiden name, if you please?’

Martyn said: ‘I don’t see what good this will do.’

‘Don’t you, indeed? Don’t you, after all, resent the sort of conjecture that’s brewing among these people?’

‘I certainly haven’t the smallest desire to be thought your daughter.’

‘And I couldn’t agree more. Good Lord!’ he said. ‘This is a fat-headed way for us to talk. Why don’t you want to tell me your mother’s maiden name? What was the matter with it?’

‘She always thought it sounded silly. It was Paula Poole Passington.’

He brought the palm of his hand down crisply on the back of her chair. ‘And why in the world,’ he asked, ‘couldn’t you say so at once?’ Martyn was silent. ‘Paula Poole Passington,’ he repeated. ‘All right. An old cousin of my father’s—cousin Paula—married someone called Passington and disappeared. I suppose to New Zealand. Why didn’t she look me up when I went out there?’

‘I believe she didn’t care for theatricals,’ said Martyn. ‘She was my grandmother. The connection is really quite distant.’

‘You might at least have mentioned it.’

‘I preferred not to.’

‘Too proud?’

‘If you like,’ she said desperately.

‘Why did you come to England?’

‘To earn my living.’

‘As a dresser?’ She was silent. ‘Well?’ he said.

‘As best I could.’

‘As an actress? Oh, for God’s sake,’ he added, ‘it’s damnably late and I’ll be obliged if you’ll behave reasonably. I may tell you I’ve spoken to Jacko. Don’t you think you’re making an ass of yourself? All this mystery act!’

Martyn got up and faced him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s a silly business but it’s not an act. I didn’t want to make a thing of it. I joined an English touring company in New Zealand a year ago and they took me on with them to Australia.’

‘What company was this? What parts did you play?’

She told him.