“I think the countess is our man—pardon me, woman.”

“She’s almost too perfect,” Tony objected. “Probably she has a heart of gold under that frosty exterior. I can’t see her galloping around in a suit of armor, either.”

“Don’t be fooled by that air of languid dignity. She’s as hard as nails. She detests Irma; she’s a natural bully, and you must admit Irma asks to be trampled on. Also, the Gräfin is the only one to profit if, for instance, Irma fell down the stairs while she was sleepwalking.”

“She could encourage, if not actually induce, the sleepwalking,” Tony agreed. “She’s got that girl mesmerized. But the profit motive doesn’t amount to much if this”—he waved a hand around the poorly equipped room—“is all Irma’s inheritance.”

“Unless she knows about the shrine.”

“Right.” We stared at one another in silence. Finally Tony said,

“We don’t want to face it, do we? But it would be naive of us to assume that we’re the only ones who could have spotted the original clues. Anyone who read that book and who knew Riemenschneider’s life story could have reached the same conclusions we did. And don’t forget the Gräfin may have other information. She could have removed significant family papers from that collection before we saw it.”

“But she hasn’t found the shrine yet. Or has she?”

“No. She wouldn’t tolerate our messing around if she had. Hasn’t it struck you how cooperative the old witch has been? Keys to the crypt, keys to the library, no embarrassing questions about our nocturnal wanderings or even about our outlandish performance this morning. Her restraint is completely out of character, unless—”

“Unless she is hoping we can find the shrine for her. She may know that it exists; but if she doesn’t know where it is hidden, she might think that we, with our training, stand a better chance of finding it than she would. Has it occurred to you—”

“That we had better guard our backs if we do locate the shrine? Yes, dear, it occurred to me with a vengeance when that homicidal armor came at me.”

“I don’t think you were in any danger from the armor,” I said callously. “You won’t be in danger until you locate the prize. That was just fun and games, to spur you on. You always think better when you get mad.”

“Fun and games,” Tony muttered. “Somebody has a sick sense of humor.”

“Definitely,” I agreed, thinking of Irma and the séance.

“Enough of this,” Tony said. “We haven’t enough evidence to make sensible deductions about the living villain. Let’s get back to the dead villain. You do see, I trust, what our discovery this morning has to do with the problem of the shrine?”

“I haven’t had time to think about it. But—my Lord, yes. In that letter of Konstanze’s she said the shrine, and the steward, had not arrived. Now we know he did arrive. And stayed here.”