‘In the drawing-room. Miss Clare’s with her. Was the Empress murdered, then?’

‘I’m not going to spoil the story for you,’ said the Inspector firmly. ‘Besides, I haven’t time. You’ll find it all in the encyclopedia.’

‘Damn you!’ Stephen said, and took him to the drawing-room.

When she saw the Inspector, Maud looked steadily at him, her hands folded in her lap, her face quite expressionless. Mathilda moved instinctively to her side, but when the Inspector told her briefly, but as gently as he could, that her husband was under arrest, she showed no sign of agitation. For a moment she did not speak. Then she said: ‘I did not see how Joseph could have done it.’

Taken aback, Mathilda exclaimed: ‘You thought he might have?’

‘Oh yes!’ Maud replied matter-of-factly. ‘You see, I have lived with Joseph for nearly thirty years. You none of you understood him.’

Mathilda looked at her in blank astonishment. ‘Didn’t you – didn’t you like him?’ she asked.

‘I liked him when I married him, naturally,’ Maud answered. ‘I have disliked him very much for many years now, however.’

‘Yet you went on living with him!’

Maud rose, rearranging the scarf she wore round her shoulders. A small, tight smile just widened her little mouth. ‘I was brought up to believe that one married for better or for worse,’ she said. ‘I daresay you thought that because I used to be an actress I didn’t care about such things. But I have always believed in doing one’s duty. Joseph was not unfaithful to me, you see.’ She walked across the room to the door. ‘I shall not come down to dinner,’ she stated. ‘It would make you all feel uncomfortable, if I did. Is there anything more you wish to say to me, Inspector?’

‘No, madam, nothing more,’ Hemingway said, as astonished as Mathilda.

‘Would you like me to come up with you?’ asked Mathilda.

‘No, thank you, dear. Just tell them to send dinner to my room, please, and don’t worry about me. I shall be quite happy, making plans for the little house I’ve always wanted to live in.’ She paused, and glanced up at Stephen, who was holding the door open for her. She smiled again. ‘By myself!’ she said simply, and walked out of the room.

About the Author

Georgette Heyer wrote over fifty books, including Regency romances, mysteries, and historical fiction. Her barrister husband, Ronald Rougier, provided many of the plots for her detective novels, which are classic English country house mysteries reminiscent of Agatha Christie. Heyer was legendary for her research, historical accuracy, and her inventive plots and sparkling characterization.

Also by Georgette Heyer

Romance

The Grand Sophy

Arabella

Frederica

These Old Shades

Devil’s Cub

The Black Moth

Venetia

A Civil Contract

Cotillion

Faro’s Daughter

Black Sheep

Lady of Quality

Regency Buck

Cousin Kate

The Quiet Gentleman

The Reluctant Widow

The Convenient Marriage

The Unknown Ajax

The Toll-Gate

The Foundling

Sylvester

The Talisman Ring

The Masqueraders

False Colours