“Here we are,” said the night-watchman. “All yer own.”

She turned to thank him and encountered a speculative stare. “Cosy,” he said, “ain’t it?” and moved nearer. “Nice little hidey hole, ain’t it?”

“You’ve been very kind,” Martyn said. “I’ll manage splendidly, now. Thank you very much indeed.”

“Don’t mention it. Any time.” His hand reached out clumsily to her arm. “Been aht in the rain,” he said thickly. “Naughty girl.”

“It’ll soon dry off. I’m quite all right.”

She moved behind the pile of dress-boxes and fumbled with the string on the top one. There was a hissing noise. She heard him strike a match and a moment later was horribly jolted by an explosion from the gas heater. It forced an involuntary cry from her.

“ ’Ullo, ’ullo!” her companion said. “Ain’t superstitious, are we?”

“Superstitious?”

He made an inexplicable gesture towards the gas fire. “You know,” he said, grinning horridly at her.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand?”

“Don’t tell me you never ’eard abaht the great Jupiter case! Don’t they learn you nothing in them antypodes?”

The heater reddened and purred.

“Come to think of it,” he said, “it’d be before your time. I wasn’t ’ere myself when it occurred, a-course, but them that was don’t give you a chance to forget it. Not that they mention it direct-like, but it don’t get forgotten.”

“What was it?” Martyn asked against her will.

“Sure yer not superstitious?”

“No, I’m not”

“You ain’t been long in this business, then. Nor more am I. Shake ’ands.” He extended his hand so pointedly that she was obliged to put her own in it and had some difficulty in releasing herself.

“It must be five years ago,” he said, “all of that. A bloke in Number Four dressing-room did another bloke in, very cunning, by blowing dahn the tube of ’is own gas fire.