The Skull Beneath the Skin
satisfactory?”
    “Yes, sir. If I may say so, the company is more fortunate in the talent of its amateur electricians than in its actors.”
    “And Mrs. Munter? Have you been able to get all the help she needs for Saturday?”
    “Not quite all. Two of the girls from the town have defaulted but Mrs. Chambers is bringing her granddaughter. I have interviewed the girl and she seems well intentioned if untrained. If the Courcy play is to be an annual event, sir, we may have to reconsider our staffing needs, at least for this one week of the year.”
    Gorringe said calmly: “I don’t think that either you or Mrs. Munter need assume that the play will be an annual event. If you feel the need to plan for twelve months ahead, it would be safer to assume that this is the last performance which Lady Ralston will give on Courcy.”
    “Thank you, sir. I should tell you that Lady Ralston telephoned. Sir George has an unexpected meeting to attend andis unlikely to arrive before Saturday afternoon and, possibly, not until after the performance. Lady Ralston proposes to solace marital deprivation by inviting a secretary-companion, a Miss Cordelia Gray. She will arrive with the rest of the party on Friday morning. Lady Ralston appeared to think that she need not speak to you personally about this arrangement.”
    Munter’s disapproval came over the line as clearly as his carefully controlled irony. He was adept at judging just how far he could safely go, and since his veiled insolence was never directed against his employer, Gorringe was indulgent. A man, particularly a servant, was entitled to his small recalcitrant bolsterings of self-respect. Gorringe had noted early in their relationship how Munter’s persona, modelled as it was on Jeeves and his near namesake Bunter, became markedly closer to parody when any of his carefully contrived domestic arrangements was upset. During Clarissa’s visits to the castle he became almost intolerably Bunterish. Relishing his manservant’s eccentricities, the contrast between his bizarre appearance and his manner, totally uncurious about his past, Gorringe now hardly bothered to wonder whether a real Munter existed and, if so, what manner of man he might be.
    He heard him say: “I thought that Miss Gray could be companionable in the De Morgan room, subject to your agreement.”
    “That would seem suitable. And if Sir George does arrive for Saturday night he can have Memento Mori. A soldier should be inured to death. Do we know anything about Miss Gray?”
    “A young lady, I understand. I take it that she will eat in the dining room.”
    “Of course.”
    Whatever Clarissa thought she was up to, it would at least even the numbers at his dinner table. But the thought of Clarissa with a secretary-companion, and a woman at that,was intriguing. He hoped that her addition to the party wouldn’t make the weekend more complicated than it already promised to be.
    “Goodbye, Munter.”
    “Goodbye, sir.”
    When Gaskin returned to the office he found his customer sitting contemplatively holding the marble arm. He gave an involuntary shiver. Gorringe replaced the marble on its cushion and watched while Gaskin busied himself finding a small cardboard box and lining it with tissue paper.
    He said: “You don’t like it?”
    Gaskin could afford to be frank. The limb was sold and Mr. Gorringe had never yet rejected a piece once the price was agreed. He lowered the arm into its box taking care to touch only the cushion.
    “I can’t say I’m sorry to see it go. I usually do very well with those porcelain models of the human hand which the Victorians were so fond of, ring stands and so on. I had a nice one in last week but the wrist frill was chipped. It wouldn’t have interested you. But a child’s arm! And cut off like that! I call it brutal, almost morbid. It’s just a feeling I have about the piece. You know how I am. It reminds me of death.”
    Gorringe took a final look at the brooches before

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