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offices in Hay Hill where Equatair had its headquarters.
    Heller didn’t look particularly pleased to see him, although he forced his features into an unsuccessful grin. David, on the other hand, was glad they had met. Last summer, on a generous impulse, he had lent Heller his slide projector and now he thought it was time he got it back.
    â€˜How are things?’
    â€˜Oh, so-so.’ The boxes were stacked up under Heller’s chin and perhaps it was this which gave to his face a set look.
    â€˜How about a drink if you’re knocking off?’
    â€˜I’ve got some more stuff to unload.’
    â€˜I’ll give you a hand,’ David said firmly. He didn’t want to lose him now.
    â€˜In the car, then.’
    He still had the same green Zephyr Six, David noted as he lifted out the three remaining boxes from the boot which Heller had opened. The cardboard was torn on the top one and inside part of a gas burner could be seen.
    â€˜Thanks,’ Heller said, and then, with an effort to be gracious, ‘Thanks very much, David.’
    Equatair’ s swing doors were still open. A couple of typists in white boots and fun furs passed them on the steps. Heller put his boxes on the floor of a small vestibule and David followed suit. Photographs of radiators and boilers and one of a lush living-room interior were pinned to the walls. It reminded David of his own designs for television film sets. That was how he had first met Heller, through work. Equatair made fireplaces too and David had borrowed one for the set of a series called, Make Mine Crime .
    â€˜How about that drink?’
    â€˜All right. I’m in no hurry to get home.’ Heller didn’t look at David when he said this and he mumbled something else with his head averted. It might have been, ‘God knows, I’m not,’ but David couldn’t be sure of that.
    He was a big heavy man, this heating engineer, with a round bullet head and hair that stuck up in short curly bristles. Usually he was almost irritatingly cheerful, inclined to slap people on the back while he told tedious jokes which, for all that, had about them an innocent slapstick quality. Tonight he had a hangdog look and David thought he had lost weight. His plump jowls sagged and they were greyish, perhaps not just because Heller, normally careful of his appearance, was in need of a shave.
    â€˜There’s a nice little place in Berwick Street I sometimes go to,’ David said. He hadn’t got his car with him so they went in Heller’s. For an engineer-cum-salesman, he was a lousy driver, David thought. Twice he was afraid they were going to go into the back of a taxi. It was his first experience of being driven by Heller as their encounters had usually been for a pre-lunch drink or a sandwich. Heller had been kindness itself over the fireplace and almost embarrassingly generous. It had been a job to stop him paying for all their drinks. Then, back in July, he had happened to say his twin brother had been staying with relatives in Switzerland—they were Swiss or half-Swiss or something—but couldn’t show the slides he had taken because he hadn’t a projector. For a long time David had wanted to show his gratitude, but it was difficult while Heller insisted on paying for everything. The loan of the projector had settled that question.
    Paying off debts was one thing. He hadn’t expected the man to hang on to it for eight months without a word.
    â€˜I wonder if I might have my projector back sometime?’ he said as they crossed Regent Street. ‘The summer’s coming and holidays . . .’
    â€˜Oh, sure,’ Heller said without enthusiasm. ‘I’ll drop it off at the studios, shall I?’
    â€˜Please.’ It wouldn’t have hurt him to say thank you. Still, he evidently had something on his mind. ‘That’s the place, The Man in the Iron Mask. If you’re quick you can nip