“How kind of him.” Zou Zou flashed the chief inspector one of her dazzling smiles. I thought I saw him blush a little. We mounted the flight of worn steps and entered the castle. My first impression reminded me a lot of Castle Rannoch. We were in a towering entrance hall with a broad flight of stairs ascending to a gallery. The ceiling was vaulted oak and the chandelier that hung down hardly managed to make the room any lighter. The only windows were pencil-thin slots, dating from the Middle Ages. And it was freezing cold, hardly any warmer than the motorcar had been. What was more, I had left my traveling rug on the seat. We stood with a Garda constable watching us as the inspector and Darcy disappeared up the stairs. I tried desperately to think of an excuse to follow him because I’d have loved to see the scene of the murder for myself, and for once I knew that Mickey was out of the way, but I couldn’t come up with anything plausible. We heard their voices echoing faintly as they made their way from room to room. Then silence for quite a while.

“My God, it’s dreary in here, isn’t it?” Zou Zou said. “No wonder Lord Kilhenny sank into bleak depression. I would have thrown myself from the battlements by now.”

“Darcy said there is a later addition with more modern rooms at the back of the castle,” I said, “and it would be a lot more cheerful with a fire in the grate.”

“Now who is looking on the bright side?” she asked with a wicked smile. “But then you have a vested interest in the place, don’t you? You could well wind up living here one day.”

That made me stop and think. Golly. Did I really want to live here one day? In a cold castle in an Irish backwater? It was something I hadn’t really considered before. The thought of being married to Darcy had been so delicious that I hadn’t stopped to think what being Lady Kilhenny one day might mean. Then I decided there were too many things to worry about right now without thinking of the future. I had just come to this conclusion when I heard the voices again and Darcy came back down the stairs with the inspector.

“No luck, I’m afraid,” he said. “But I did find a slingshot and two conkers in one of my hiding places.”

“Thank you for looking, anyway,” the inspector said. He sounded quite pally after the frosty reception he’d given Darcy earlier. Perhaps he was preparing himself to admit that he was wrong and that Lord Kilhenny did not kill Mr. Roach.