“We’re going up to London tomorrow,” I said. “So you’ll have to find out from other sources.”

“You’re so lucky.” Kat sighed. “We’re stuck up here and never go anywhere.”

“Let’s hope it’s a fine day tomorrow,” Nick said. “Then we can go outside and look at the scene of the crime. Maybe there’s bloodstains. Maybe we’ll find clues.”

“Enough of such talk,” Nanny said. “Bloodstains, indeed. Since when did nicely behaved children mention such things?”

“Those children need to go away to school and lead a normal life,” Darcy said to me as we came back down the stairs.

“They want to. It’s a question of money. Now that Jack is Duke of Eynsford, perhaps he’ll pay for their schooling.”

“If it turns out. . . .” Darcy didn’t finish the sentence. There were so many ifs at the moment.

“Let’s hope that Scotland Yard and my grandfather can solve this quickly and everything will be all right,” I said. “I hate this feeling of not knowing, of suspecting everyone.”

As we came to the end of the landing, Darcy grabbed my arm.

“What’s wrong?” I jumped a mile, looking around for potential danger.

“Nothing. I just thought that we might take this opportunity . . .” He drew me close to him and his arms came around me.

“Darcy, do you think we should?” I asked, looking around nervously.

He chuckled. “I say take our chances while we can.”

I didn’t protest as his lips came to meet mine. I suspect I was looking somewhat guilty as we came back to join the others in the Long Gallery. Belinda noticed and raised an eyebrow but nobody else paid any attention to us, as Fairbotham was addressing the assembled company.

“So I thought I should tell you that no fingerprints were found on the handle of the knife used to kill the duke,” he was saying.

“No fingerprints?” Edwina demanded. “You mean no strange fingerprints.”

“No, I mean absolutely no fingerprints at all. Whoever did this wiped the handle clean afterward.”

“So the killer had time to wipe the handle clean but not time to move the body or to remove the knife,” I muttered to Darcy. “This gets stranger and stranger.”

“So we’re no further ahead, unless William confesses,” Irene said.

“Actually no, we are a little further ahead.” A glint came into Fairbotham’s eye. He turned to Jack. “Remember this morning you told us that you never went anywhere near the path in the glen, sir?” he asked. “And you even pointed at your boots and said how different your footprints would be from anyone else’s?”

Jack nodded. “That’s right.”

“Well, it might surprise you to know that we found your footprints on that path—and nice and clear and recent they were too.”