‘What she needs most is a sympathetic woman friend. That’s you, Hannah.’

‘I was touched that she turned to me.’

‘If she’s under our roof, we can protect her from finding out the truth about Orsino, but she’ll have to know the worst eventually. Is she strong enough to bear it?’

‘I’m not sure, Paul.’

‘How long has Dorothea been in the profession?’

‘It’s almost three years.’

‘Then she’s no shrinking violet. An actress has to have an inner core of belief to survive in what can be a testing world. You’ve often told me that.’

‘It’s true. Sometimes you have to fight tooth and nail. Dorothea knows that.’

‘Good,’ said Paul. ‘It will help her through the ordeal to come.’

Peter Skillen had arrived back in London the next morning much later than he’d hoped. Expecting a relatively swift nocturnal journey in a mail coach, he was dismayed when one of its wheels was badly damaged as it hit a rock invisible in the darkness. It had meant slowing to a snail’s pace and – with the passengers trudging behind it – the coach limped into the next village like a wounded soldier returning from the war. Though extremely unhappy about being roused from his bed, the blacksmith was able to repair the wheel enough to make it serviceable until it could be replaced with a new one. Peter and the other passengers were grateful to climb aboard once more and resume their journey at last. It did, however, mean that he arrived in London hours later than intended.

After returning home to shave, change and consume a hasty breakfast, Peter went straight out again. Instead of going to the shooting gallery to make his wife and the others aware of his return, however, Peter rode straight to the Home Office. It was situated in Dorset House on Whitehall and was a place he’d visited many times in the past. While he was anxious to speak to the Home Secretary, he knew that he might have to wait some time – some days even – for an appointment. Since he was no longer employed by Sidmouth as an agent, he could no longer expect to be accorded special treatment.

Fortune smiled on him. The first person he met as he entered the building was the Parliamentary Under-Secretary. John Hiley Addington was the Home Secretary’s brother and confidant. He recognised Peter immediately.

‘How nice to see you again, Mr Skillen,’ he said with genuine cordiality. ‘My brother didn’t tell me that you were coming to see him today.’

‘I haven’t made an appointment yet,’ explained Peter, ‘but I’m hoping that I’ll be able to do so. I’m fully aware of how busy the Home Secretary is. You and he are famous for your capacity for hard work.’