“Wait a bit. It came to me that human beings could, with a little judicious arrangement, be as carefully ‘composed’ as the figures in a picture. One had only to restrict them a little, confine them within the decent boundaries of a suitable canvas, and they would make a pattern. It seemed to me that given the limitations of an imposed stage, some of my acquaintances would at once begin to unfold an exciting drama; that, so restricted, their conversation would begin to follow as enthralling a design as that of a fugue. Of course the right — how shall I put it? — the right ingredients must be selected, and this was where I came in. I would set my palette with human colours, and the picture would paint itself. I would summon my characters to the theatre of my own house, and the drama would unfold itself.”

“Pirandello,” Mandrake began, “has become quite—”

“But this is not Pirandello,” Jonathan interrupted in a great hurry. “No. In this instance we shall see not six characters in search of an author, but an author who has deliberately summoned seven characters to do his work for him.”

“Then you mean to write, after all.”

“Not I. I merely select. As for writing,” said Jonathan, “that’s where you come in. I make you a present of what I cannot but feel is a golden opportunity.”

Mandrake stirred uneasily. “I wish I knew what you were up to,” he said.

“My dear fellow, I’m telling you. Listen. A month ago I decided to make this experiment. I decided to invite seven suitably chosen characters for a winter week-end here at Highfold, and I spent a perfectly delightful morning compiling the list. My characters must, I decided, be as far as possible antagonistic to each other.”

“Oh God!”

“Not antagonistic each one to the other seven, but there must at least be some sort of emotional or intellectual tension running like a connecting thread between them. Now, a very little thought showed me that I had not far to seek. Here, in my own corner of Dorset, here in the village and county undercurrents, still running high in spite of the war, I found my seven characters. And since I must have an audience, and an intelligent audience, I invited an eighth guest — yourself.”