“Yes, Darcy was kind enough to escort me home,” I said.

“I ballywell hope he behaved like a gentleman,” Tristram said.

A smile twitched across my lips. “Tristram, I believe you’re jealous of Darcy.”

“Jealous. Good Lord, no. I’m just worried about you, old thing. And I make no bones about it: I don’t trust that O’Mara. Nothing good ever came out of Ireland.”

“Whiskey,” I said, “and Guinness.”

“What? Oh, rather. But you know what I mean.”

“Tristram, Darcy is a peer of the realm and he behaved like one,” I said firmly, thinking of the extraordinary ways I had known peers to behave. Before he could answer this I said briskly, “But I really have to run. I’m going to be late.”

“Oh, right. I just wanted to offer my services, you know. See if there’s anything I can do.”

“It’s sweet of you, but there’s nothing, really.”

“I suppose your brother is taking good care of you.”

“My brother is at his club.”

“Weally? If you wanted me to come and stand guard at night, I’d be happy to.”

I had to chuckle at the thought of Tristram standing guard. “Thank you, but I’ll probably continue to stay with my friend for a while.”

“Good idea. Quite a relief to have someone keep an eye on you. I don’t suppose you’d like to meet me later, so that I can take you for a bite to eat and cheer you up?”

“Thank you. You’re very kind, but I don’t think I’m in the mood for eating and I’ve no idea how long this will take.”

“Right-o, then. I’ll check in from time to time and see how you’re getting along. Whiffy and I both want to help if we can. Toodle-oo, then. Keep your pecker up, old thing.”

I hung up and hurried out to meet Binky. I was rather intrigued to know whether we might see Old Mr. Prendergast today and how he might look, until I was informed that he had been dead for ten years. Young Mr. Prendergast tuttutted and sighed as he sat surveying us. “A bad business, Your Grace. A nasty business indeed.”

“I give you my word my sister and I had nothing to do with it,” Binky said.

“My firm has handled the legal affairs of your family for generations,” the old man said. “Your word is enough for me.”

“But you can see how bad it looks for us.”

“I can indeed. Most unfortunate.”

“We were wondering,” Binky said, “whether you would have to tell the police about the letter—if they haven’t yet found out about it. Because, I mean to say, that would really put the cat among the pigeons, so to speak.”