'Oh, it was very enjoyable in some ways.'
'But not in the way that was intended to be the most important way?'
'Unfortunately not. However, the evening was far from wasted. We were served at dinner by the most charming and understanding waiter. I drove over and lunched there today under his auspices, and then he spent most of the afternoon under mine.'
'Good show.'
Hunter frowned and stroked his mustache. 'I hardly like bringing this up, Willie, but why don't you disapprove of me?'
'Oh, good God, Max, surely you know me better than to have to ask that. I disapprove of as little as possible on principle. I want to encourage people to go in the direction I think is best for them, not tell them they're too disgusting to deserve to be able to make a start. So I can't oblige you with any disapproval. Why are you so keen to get it, anyway?'
'My dear, I don't think this line of talk suits you at all. Still, if you insist… Tell me, Major Ayscue, what makes you think I want to earn your disapproval?'
'The first chance you got you told me you were a practicing homo and went into quite a bit of detail. In the White Hart, with James and Moti. You remember.'
'Just. Perhaps I did blab a bit, but I was pissed at the time.'
'You were pissed all the time in those days. It didn't make you blab to the Colonel or Brian Leonard as far as I know. I got the impression you were trying to pick a fight with me, Max.'
'I told you I was pissed. Look, what's all this about?'
'Admit you've got it in for the Church.'
'Oh, I see, I see. You're probing about that bloody poem, aren't you?'
'Who told you about that?'
'Andy did.'
Ayscue nodded. 'Oh. Yes. You know, at one time I thought it was possible he'd written the poem.'
'Did you?'
'I don't think so any more. But he did seem to have the strongest motive.'
'How do you mean?'
'For heaven's sake, Max. Fawkes was Pearce's friend and Fawkes died.'
'Oh yes, of course, sorry.'
'Still, he seems to be pretty well back on an even keel now, don't you agree?'
'Mm. Steady as a rock.'
'I'd like to think I've helped him a bit there by getting him interested in this Roughead sonata thing.'
'Oh, you've got him interested in that, have you? Well done.'
'We've had a few practices. For an amateur, you know, he's remarkably good technically. There's a lot of talent there, Max.'
'Yes, I thought so, too.'
They fell silent and entered the theater. This was no more than an oversized hut with a low stage at one end. The weekly cinema show took place in it, and it had also been used for a concert organized by the Sergeants' Mess, two thinly attended lectures arranged by Ays-cue, and a couple of morale-building harangues by the Colonel. No play had been presented here during the unit's tenancy of the camp, but for a moment Hunter wondered whether some ambitiously unextravagant production might not be impending, or even in progress. The blinds had not been rolled up after Sunday's film, and the screen was still in position. On and near the stage a number of uniformed figures, under strong illumination, were sauntering or standing about. As he and Hunter made their way up the aisle, Ayscue said,
'I've got a feeling we may be going to meet the author of that poem quite soon.'
'Why should you feel that?'
'He's obviously the same as this Anti-Death League character.'
'This is all rather too deep for me, I'm happy to say.'
Ross-Donaldson held the stage. Plump but elegant, his face at least as expressionless as ever, his hands clasped behind his back, he strolled to and fro in a measured way, glancing every so often towards the door. Near the back wall there stood two members of the main camp guard in the at-ease position. Both men were armed, and both looked rather self-conscious. Venables, Leonard and Colonel White were grouped round a battered piano beside the stage, the first two staring into space in different directions, the Colonel in the act of settling himself in the only nearby chair with a large album of community songs which he had presumably found on the spot. He was quietly humming a tune.
In the audience, six or seven men were sitting in ones and twos. Hunter picked out Ayscue's batman, Evans, and then, in the front row, Naidu chatting to a sergeant.
'Fancy seeing you here, Moti.'
'Good evening, gentlemen.' Naidu got up and swept a mock bow. 'And to what do we owe this pleasure?'
