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poached eggs on spinach.’
    â€˜Hmm. I’m never sure whether eggs help or hinder.’
    â€˜It’s very plain. Sort of Oeufs Florentine.’
    â€˜That sounds foreign.’ So Lennie Barber didn’t want any of it.
    Eventually, he went back to the Martin Chuzzlewit, which the tassel-capped waiter assured him was wholly without foreign condiments, and a Sidney Carton (tomato soup) to start with. Walter plumped for Fanny Squeers’ Pate followed by a Dombey and Son with a mixed green Little Dorrit. Charles was a bit more adventurous and ordered Quilp Fritters and a rare Nicholas Nickleby. Walter consulted the wine list and ordered wine as if his life depended on it. Lennie Barber said he would keep drinking Scotch and asked for another.
    Charles was interested in the comedian. He had that feeling, which even hardened actors cannot quash, of being in the presence of someone special, a celebrity. In spite of the downward spiral of his career, Lennie Barber had been, in his prime, one of the greatest comics in the land. His catch-phrases had been on everyone’s lips. Charles wanted to hear the man talk. He also wanted to hear the man talk about Hunstanton and Bill Peaky. Unwillingly, because he liked what he knew of the comedian, he had to admit that Barber was a prime suspect. Professional jealousy of a cocky upstart might have provided a motive for the crime. And Barber had been pulling the cart that broke the cable in the first place. Investigation would be necessary.
    He looked covertly at the comedian. The spray of white hair over the lined features was still a shock, but at close quarters the face seemed to have more of the impudence of the old Barber.
    Another surprise was the hands. The strange outsize mittens in Hunstanton were explained by heavy crêpe bandages. Interesting. Those too must be investigated. But, first, social conventions.
    â€˜It’s a great pleasure to meet you. I’ve been a fan of yours for many years.’ He hoped it didn’t sound meaninglessly fulsome.
    Barber seemed to take it straight. ‘Surprising the number of people who say that – that they’ve always been fans. What happened to them when I needed fans, that’s what I want to know. People forget pretty quickly.’ He spoke without bitterness, just acknowledging facts.
    â€˜I don’t think anyone who heard them or saw them will ever forget those Barber and Pole shows. The number of people I’ve heard saying they wished comedy programmes were like that nowadays.’
    â€˜I’ve been available. The trouble is, the public never want anyone to change. They liked me with Wilkie – and so they should, it was a good act – but they’ve never been able to accept that that was only one style I could do. I mean, I’ve been developing as a comic all my life. Still am developing. And yet all the public wants is me back with Wilkie. When he died, they didn’t want to know about me on my own.’
    â€˜It must have been quite a shock for you when he did die.’
    â€˜I don’t know. We’d known for some months he was on the way out. Mind you, it certainly would have been a shock if I’d known the effect it would have on my career.’
    â€˜I meant personally.’
    â€˜Personally? Wilkie and I weren’t very close. Obviously we spent a lot of time together professionally, but we weren’t bosom mates. Anyway I’d been thinking of splitting up with him for some time, so his death sort of decided that for me.’
    â€˜But why did you want to get out of the double act? It was enormously successful.’
    â€˜Oh, sure. But it was holding me back in my career. You see, Wilkie was a grand feed, but that’s all he was. I was the funny one.’
    The arrival of the first chapters of their meal gave Charles a moment in which to assess this claim. Though it sounded arrogant, there was a lot of truth in it. Lennie Barber had