Martyn, seeing how miserable he looked, felt sorry for him. He muttered: ‘I do so abominate first nights,’ and she rejoined: ‘They are pretty ghastly, aren’t they?’ Because he seemed unable to take himself off, she added with an air of finality: ‘Anyway, may I wish you luck for this one?’

‘Sweet of you,’ he said. ‘I’ll need it. I’m the stooge of this piece. Well, thanks, anyway.’

He drifted into the passage, halted outside the open door of Poole’s dressing-room and greeted Bob Cringle. ‘Governor not down yet?’

‘We’re on our way, Mr Percival.’

Parry inclined his head and strolled into the room. He stood close to Bob leaning his back against the dressing-shelf, his legs elegantly crossed.

‘Our little stranger,’ he murmured, ‘seems to be new-brooming away next door.’

‘That’s right, sir,’ said Bob. ‘Settled in very nice.’

‘Strong resemblance,’ Parry said invitingly.

‘To the guvnor, sir?’ Bob rejoined cheerfully. ‘That’s right. Quite a coincidence.’

‘A coincidence!’ Parry echoed. ‘Well, not precisely, Bob. I understand there’s a distant relationship. It was mentioned for the first time last night. Which accounts for the set-up, one supposes. Tell me, Bob, have you ever before heard of a dresser doubling as understudy?’

‘Worked-out very convenient, hasn’t it, sir?’

‘Oh, very,’ said Parry discontentedly. ‘Look, Bob. You were with the governor on his New Zealand tour in ‘30, weren’t you?’

Bob said woodenly: ‘That’s correct, sir. ‘E was just a boy in them days. Might I trouble you to move, Mr Percival. I got my table to lay out.’

‘Oh, sorry. I’m in the way. As usual. Quite! Quite!’ He waved his hand and walked jauntily into the passage.

‘Good luck for tonight, sir,’ said Bob and shut the door after him. Parry moved on to J. G. Darcey’s room. He tapped, was answered, and went in. J.G. was already embarked on his make-up.

‘Bob,’ said Parry, ‘refused to be drawn.’

‘Good evening, dear boy. About what?’

‘Oh, you know. The New Zealand tour and so on.’

‘Did you see her?’

‘I happened to look in.’

‘What’s she like?’

Parry lit a cigarette. ‘As you have seen,’ he said, ‘she’s fantastically like him. Which is really the point at issue. But fantastically like.’

‘Can she give a show?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Parry. He leaned forward and hugged his knees boyishly. ‘Oh, yes indeed. Indeed she can, my dear J.G. You’d be surprised.’

J.G. made a noncommittal sound and went on with his make-up.

‘This morning,’ Parry continued, ‘the doctor was there. And Ben. Ben, quite obviously devoured with chagrin. I confess I couldn’t help rather gloating. As I remarked, it’s getting under his skin. Together, no doubt, with vast potations of brandy and soda.’

‘I hope to God he’s all right tonight.’

‘It appears that Gay was in the back of the house, poor thing, while it was going on.’