“Yes. Why were you in that man’s hotel room?” It did sound rather sordid, as she had intended.

“I was . . . It wasn’t what you think. He . . . I was helping.”

“Helping with what?”

“I . . . Oh, Mrs. Bates . . .” She couldn’t hold back her tears any longer, and Elizabeth went to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders and leading her to one of the chairs by the cold fireplace.

“Sit down, Persephone. I know you had quite a shock today. Can I get you something?”

Persephone shook her head and continued to weep into the handkerchief she had pulled from her pocket. Elizabeth sat down in the other chair and waited patiently until the storm of tears had passed.

When she could speak again, Persephone asked, “Will the police come?”

“I have no idea, and even if they do, they’re hardly likely to come for you, are they?”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“Who was that man in the hotel room and how were you helping him?”

“Oh, Mrs. Bates, I can’t tell you, but it’s not what you think. That man, Mr. Waterson, he’s my father.”

“Your father?” Could this be true? Sadly, it made perfect sense. Hadn’t Elizabeth herself grown up with a con man for a father? That would certainly explain Persephone’s involvement in all of this, too.

“Yes, I was . . . I was just waiting until he finished his business meeting. He had told me to stay in the other room because it wasn’t proper for me to attend the meeting.”

A good story, although Elizabeth knew perfectly well how Persephone would have been involved if the con had gone according to plan. “I can’t imagine how frightened you must have been, but my husband said that you and, uh, your father left before the, uh, authorities came, so perhaps no one need ever know you were there.”

“Do you think so?”

“Well, your father might be contacted, since he was registered at the hotel,” Elizabeth said, thinking he certainly would not be contacted if he hadn’t used his real name, “but he needn’t mention that you were there.”

“He wouldn’t, I know, but what about Mr. Bates? Will he tell?”

“I don’t know if he already told anyone, but I can ask him to pretend he never noticed you.”

“That would be very kind of him.”

Yes, it would, if the authorities ever really questioned him about it, which they wouldn’t. “I know it must have been a shock to witness such an awful thing, and it’s terrible for such a young man to die, but you must remember he was practically a stranger to you.”

“But he wasn’t,” Persephone said in despair. “We were . . . we were seeing each other.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yes. He was such a nice man, a real gentleman.”

“But if he was trifling with that other woman . . .”