“I gather you had a nasty tumble,” Whiffy said. “The lighting is so poor in the corridors, isn’t it? Old Tris tripped over a suit of armor on our floor. That’s par for the course for him. Clumsy as an ox. Have you seen him, by the way?”

At that moment he appeared, in animated conversation with Prince Siegfried. They were both heading in my direction. I couldn’t stand it a minute longer. I excused myself as soon as I was able, and went to my room. I went up the little staircase, looking carefully for clues. It was too dark to see much, but I knelt down and examined the third step, which was where I had taken the tumble. There was no sign of a nail from which a string could be tied, but there were telltale holes in the walls. My adversary thought he or she had removed the evidence, but one can’t remove holes.

I went into my room and locked the door, but I couldn’t sleep. Every house has a set of skeleton keys that my killer could acquire, but at least I’d be ready for him. I looked around for a suitable weapon, then took a warming pan off the wall and laid it beside me. At the first hint of anyone near my door, I’d be waiting, armed and ready to bash him over the head and scream the place down.

The hours ticked on. An owl hooted and somewhere in the park there was a scream, probably a fox taking a rabbit. Then I heard the floorboards outside my door creak. It was the slightest of sounds but I was up in an instant, warming pan in my hands, standing beside the door. I held my breath, waiting, but nothing happened. At last I could stand it no longer. I unlocked the door as quietly as possible, and looked out. A figure in a dark robe was creeping down the hall as if he or she didn’t want to wake anyone. My first thought was the Prince of Wales, returning from a visit to Mrs. Simpson, or vice versa. But I could see that the person was taller than either the prince or the American woman. The form passed the prince’s suite and kept on going. At last it paused outside a door, tapped very gently, then entered.