“Val!” he said loudly, looking round to take in the whole of the foyer. “You’ve done it again!”

By way of reply, Val Lampman smiled a tight smile and glanced almost too casually at his watch.

“Right, then,” he said. “All present and accounted for. Jeannette and Clifford, as you were. You may stand down. We’ll be taking the principals this evening, after all. First read-through tomorrow morning at seven-thirty, costumes at nine-fifteen. Miss Trodd will hand out the sheets in two hours’ time.”

“Now’s your chance,” Daffy whispered, nudging Feely. “Go ask him!”

In the foyer, the actors and crew were beginning to drift away, leaving Val Lampman alone at the bottom of the stairs jotting something in a notebook.

“No! I’ve changed my mind,” Feely said.

“Silly camel!” Daffy told her. “Do you want me to ask him? I will, you know.

“She’s going to be one of the extras,” Daffy whispered. “She’s got her heart set on it.”

“No!” Feely said. “Shush!”

“Oh, Mr. Lampman,” Daffy said, in quite a loud voice, “my sister—”

Val Lampman looked up into the shadows.

Feely punched Daffy on the upper arm. “Stop it!” she hissed.

I got up from the floor, gave my face a rub with the palm of my hand, adjusted my clothing, and walked down the stairs in a way that would have made Father proud.

“Mr. Lampman?” I said at the landing. “I’m Flavia de Luce, of the Buckshaw de Luces. My sister Ophelia is seventeen. She was hoping you’d be able to give her a small walk-on part.” I pointed. “That’s her up there peeking through the banister.”

Val Lampman shaded his eyes and looked up into the dim woodwork.

“Please show yourself, Miss de Luce,” he said.

Upstairs, Feely got to her knees, then to her feet, dusted herself off, and peered foolishly down over the railings.

There was an awkward silence. Val Lampman lifted his fedora and scratched his thin flaxen hair.