“Have Huxstep call the doctor immediately,” Irene said. She rushed from the room. Edwina followed her. I’d like to have gone too, but I wasn’t a family member and had no excuse to go with them. I couldn’t believe that Kat had just “got herself into a state.” It had to be more serious than that. Poor little Kat, so inquisitive, so keen to play detective. Had she found out the vital clue that pointed to the killer?

The rest of us sat there, not knowing what to do.

“The child obviously ate some food that was too rich for her,” Princess Charlotte said. “I told Edwina I thought it was a stupid idea to have the children present at the adult’s luncheon. In my day, children ate bread and milk and lightly boiled eggs for their midday meal.”

I found I was holding my breath, waiting for doom to fall. My gaze went around the room, watching the others, wondering.

I noticed that only two of the Starlings were in the room: Julian and Adrian. Simon was missing. I realized I knew nothing about him. Did he, like Carter, have connections to the family that none of us knew about? I should find Darcy. I should find Chief Inspector Fairbotham. I got up and left the Long Gallery. I stood all alone in the great, marble foyer wondering what to do first. Had they summoned a doctor? Was Fairbotham still on the premises? Where was Huxstep? I decided to go up to the nursery. They should know what I now suspected. As I made my way up the grand staircase, I was conscious of those nymphs and satyrs and Greek gods laughing down serenely at me. Suddenly they looked menacing—the fates mocking us. And then I stood, rooted to the spot. I had to grab the banister or I would have fallen down the stairs.

Greek gods. I remembered the book I had had in my nursery and the picture of Castor and Pollux, the heavenly twins, children of Zeus, in Greek mythology. Princess Charlotte and her spirits had been right after all. And I realized something else . . . Charlotte had dreamed of the cuckoo, coming into Kingsdowne, and she had dreamed of the dangerous panther among us. The black cat.

I started to run now—up the stairs, up to the second flight and along the hall to the nursery. I opened the door. Kat was lying in bed, her eyes closed, looking deathly pale. Nick was perched at the end of the bed, looking terrified. Sissy was in her chair in the corner. There was no sign of the grown-ups. Nick’s gaze fastened on me as I came in.

“She nearly died,” he said. “She was puking and puking. It was horrible.”

Kat opened her eyes. “I feel awful,” she said. “I want a drink of water.”

“Nanny’s gone to get you some barley water,” Nick said.