'Let me tell you that I am the sole writer of The King's Man, and—'

'Really?' The other beamed and held out his hand. 'I'm delighted to meet you. I suppose that means you'll be coming down to Alderley, too, will you?'

Gilbert stared at him. 'Eh?'

Haggermeir goggled. 'Who - who are you?'

'Oh, sorry. Should have introduced myself. I'm Burford.'

Haggermeir's jaw dropped. 'Earl Burford?'

'Of, as a matter of fact.'

'Uh?'

'Earl of Burford's the correct form. Not that it matters.'

'Oh, my lord, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Do forgive me.' Haggermeir was red-faced. 'Please, sit down.' He ushered Lord Burford to a chair. 'Will you have a drink, sir?'

'Ah.' Lord Burford thought for a moment. 'I'll have a bourbon old fashioned.'

'Oh, I'll have to send down for that. I only have Scotch.'

'No, no, Scotch and soda will be fine.'

'Sure?'

'Quite. Er, prefer it, actually. No offence. Just thought, you being American . . .' Lord Burford tailed off.

Gilbert said: 'Whisky'll suit me, too, thanks - Cyrus.'

Haggermeir, crossing to a makeshift bar, cast him a dirty glance.

Gilbert flopped into a chair near the Earl's. 'Why should you expect me at Alderley, Lord Burford?'

'Well, as the producer wants to look over the place to see if it's suitable for filming, I assumed the writer would want to, as well.'

Gilbert nodded, as though a light had dawned. 'Ah, yes, of course -1 will want to. I was just surprised you, a non-professional, realising the necessity of that. Cyrus and I were hoping you'd include me in the invitation. That's settled, then. Now, let me see, Cyrus, you're going down when?'

Haggermeir came hack carrying two glasses. He looked grim. He handed one to the Earl and the other to Gilbert, saying, 'Thursday. But on second thought, I'm not sure it's necessary for you to come - until I've decided if the place is suitable.'

'Oh, nonsense. If you do decide on it, the script will need a lot of adaptation.