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The stage door itself was guarded by a couple of large and, frankly, rather dim-looking Goblins in dark suits. "Good morning," I said politely as I entered, taking off my hat and holding it as if I expected some lackey to take it from me. "What'd'ya want?" the gorilla on the left grunted. "I have an appointment," I replied, deploying my best attempt at a crisp civil voice, the kind some Goblins would use to talk to their social inferiors, "At eleven o'clock." "Uh-huh," grunted the other monkey, "And you'd'ya think you're seein'?" I reached into my coat pocket, moving slowly enough to avoid the apes actually pulling a gun on me. But it was amusing to see the instinctive reaction, the flinch as I withdrew a little leather-bound notebook. I flicked open the book. "That would be, ah, let me see," I said calmly, glancing at a page in the notebook - it was blank, of course, "Dalgrin Balloch." "Mister Balloch's not here," the first chimp uttered, stepping forward and trying to look more menacing. "I am a few minutes early," I agreed amiably, "So, I'll just wait until he arrives, shall I?" "Mister Balloch's not here," he repeated. He wasn't going to be easily deflected. It all seemed just a bit heavyweight. I mean, I'm all in favour of protecting the delicate sensitivities of the artistes and dancers from uninvited guests, but did they really have such a problem with intruders that this kind of rather blunt enforcement was necessary? The second ape stepped forward. "You should go now," he advised. I contrived to look puzzled, confused at the information conveyed rather than intimidated by the manner of its delivery. "But Dalgrin definitely said I should meet him here." "So I did," came a voice from outside. Dalgrin Balloch had suddenly appeared in the doorway behind me, accompanied by another bulky Goblin who was the near-twin of the two who had been guarding the stage door. "Ah, Dalgrin, there you are, at last!" I strode forward and proffered my hand, causing all three goons to suddenly look alert and reach for whatever it was they had concealed under their armpits and jackets. I ignored them. "Findo Gask. How are you?" Balloch said genially, taking my outstretched palm and shaking it warmly. "Very well," I replied with equal bonhomie, carefully not seeing the almost imperceptible nod that Balloch directed at the bodyguard accompanying him. "Glad you're here," I went on, disentangling my hand from his grasp, "These chaps" - I emphasised the word for effect - "seem to be suggesting you're not expecting me." "There must be some mistake," he said solemnly, frowning slightly. None of the goons seemed in the least bit fazed by this assertion. "So," he went on, "Are you ready to have a good look around?" I smiled broadly. "That's what I'm here for."
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Part 19