“Not exactly.” He was looking at me as if I were rather dense. “Look, Georgie, it’s really none of your business.”

“It damned well is my business. My brother has been arrested for a murder he didn’t commit. I’m in danger and so far you are the only one with a motive to want de Mauxville dead. I’m going straight downstairs to telephone the police. They’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“No, don’t do that. For God’s sake. I swear I didn’t kill him, Georgie, but I can’t let my family find out.”

Suddenly light dawned. The conversation I had overheard at Whiffy’s house . . . and last night Tristram tiptoeing down the hall to Prince Siegfried’s room. “You’re talking about clubs where boys go to meet boys, aren’t you?” I said. “You and Tristram, you’re both that way inclined.”

He flushed bright scarlet. “So you see what it would be like if anyone found out. I’d be out of the Guards on my ear, and my family—well, my family would never forgive me. Military since Wellington, you know.”

Another idea was forming in my head. “So how did you manage to pay off de Mauxville? Not on a Guards officer’s pay.”

“That was the problem. Where to get the money.”

“So you took things from your family’s London house?”

“Good God, Georgie—are you a blinking mind reader or something? Yes, I took the odd item, here and there. Pawned them, you know, outside of London. Always planned to get them back.”

“And you don’t know who killed de Mauxville?”

“No, but I’m bally glad they did. God bless them.”

“And did you see anybody upstairs, when you were heading for the attic?”

“No. Can’t say I did. But I’ll come and look with you, if you like.”

I hesitated. A strong Guards officer might not be a bad idea if I was to tackle a murderer, but I could also find myself trapped on the roof alone with him.

“We’ll get the servants to search,” I said and walked down the stairs with him.

The search revealed nobody hiding on the roof, but my attacker would have had plenty of time to sneak down while I was questioning Whiffy. Everyone but me seemed to think it was a horrible accident. I no longer felt safe anywhere and there was something I had to know. I slipped out of the house when no one was looking and walked the length of the driveway. Then, after half a mile or so, I followed the long drive to Sir Hubert’s sprawling Tudor mansion.

The door was opened by a maid and the butler was summoned.

“I’m sorry but the master is not in residence,” he said as he came to meet me. “I am Rogers, Sir Hubert’s butler.”