It was hard to sleep that night. Tomorrow we would perhaps learn the truth and maybe exonerate Lord Kilhenny for good. I was up early, put on my coat and walked around the property to try to tame that excess energy. It was a typical old-fashioned estate with a large kitchen garden growing rows of cabbages and cauliflower, a few sheep, a couple of cows and chickens and ducks all over the place. The thought crossed my mind that I could be happy in such a place as this. I met Oona herself coming back from the henhouse with the day’s eggs.

“Not laying well in the winter, I’m afraid,” she said. “Can’t say that I blame them.” She gave me an inquiring stare. “You’re out early. Excited about what the day will bring, or worried?”

“Hopeful,” I said.

She nodded as if she understood. “Any idiot could tell that Thaddy didn’t kill anyone,” she said. “Unfortunately some juries have their fair share of idiots.”

We walked back to the house together and breakfasted on fried eggs and bacon. The princess joined us just as we were on the toast and marmalade. She looked composed, elegant and serene, as if her biggest task today would be shopping at Harrods. I waited impatiently until Darcy arrived at ten, and we all drove back to the lodge. On our way down the drive we passed Queenie, walking with a shopping basket over her arm.

“Should we give her a ride?” Darcy asked. He slowed the car. “Where are you off to, Queenie?” he asked.

“Lady Whyte was out of some things we needed for baking,” Queenie said, “so I said I’d go into the village for her.”

“Jump in, we’ll give you a lift,” Darcy said.

“Oh, thank you, sir. Most kind,” she said, blushing scarlet, and climbed in beside the princess. Again I waited for something disastrous to happen, like snagging her basket on Zou Zou’s silk stockings, but miraculously we dropped Queenie off in the village with no ill effects. A new leaf was definitely turning.

Lord Kilhenny was looking tense and drawn, staring into the crackling flames as we sat around the fire at the lodge waiting for Mr. Lennox to arrive. None of us spoke much, each wrapped in our own thoughts and worries. Mr. Lennox came before eleven. He still had that serious look on his face, like an anxious schoolboy, and we couldn’t tell if he brought good news or bad.

“Okay, this is what we know so far,” he said, stretching out his long legs as he sat across from us. “Still no identification on the dead man. Naturally his face matches no pictures we have on our wanted files, so I think we can confirm that he had facial surgery done. And we have no real fingerprints. However . . .” And he paused for effect. “We have a match on Mickey Riley.”