“You threw your wife at me, you followed and spied on me. Don’t make me too angry.”

“You angry? God Almighty. You know what he made me do, sir, gentlemen? I never followed you—or if I did, why not? It’s a free country and you had your fun, jumping into a cab that time, a taxi, and being on the other Rhine boat and to cap it all, jeering at me in Marrakesh. If you go on like this—I’d meant to respect your wishes—”

“Will you listen?”

“I warn you. I’m not helpless!”

“Oh for God’s sake!”

“I’ll use the material Mrs Barclay gave me. And Miss Barclay!’

“What material?”

“They told me things.”

“Oh my dears! A positive dénouement!”

“Listen carefully, Rick. You’re a bit drunk and perhaps—anyway, listen. You’re not going to write that particular biography. I’m going to write it myself—”

Rick gave a kind of howl. I’ve never heard anything like it. Perhaps it’s how a wolf howls or a coyote or something strange and wild. Things got very confused after that. I mean he also kneeled down or rather flung himself down on his knees.

He also bit my ankle. For a turbulent moment or two I thought that I was about to experience that massive male strength again but then he was more or less in my lap and his hands went to my head. He got them on my right ear and left cheek and I think he was trying for my eyes with any fingers and thumbs he had to spare. Johnny tried to come between us and Gabriel, trying—I deduce—to pull the table away because of all the glass, got involved with two men from another table who rashly intervened. From what I’ve gathered since a wave of hysteria swept over the roomful of diners and those sober-suited professional men for the most part joined in. Tables went over, there were tears, people fell about, menus, wine lists, bills, order books, bits of manuscript flew up into the air and seemed to float like snow. People were cut by glass but in general we didn’t get much hurt. Even when we try, we chaps aren’t very good at that sort of thing. Like Mary Lou, if in no other way, we aren’t physical. I dare say there was some scratching and the odd bite, but little more. I lost a little of my beard and one ear was glowing, that was all. I didn’t even see what had happened to my “guest”. I slept very well.

When I got downstairs next morning the club secretary was standing in the hall. He was looking severe as I suppose was natural. He marked me off on the list he had ready in his hand.

“Mr Barclay, I must ask for your account of what happened last night in the dining-room.”

“I can’t be bothered. Sorry.”

“I have to report to the committee.”

“If they want me to resign, tell them I’ll go quietly.”