He didn’t seem particularly impressed—not bowing and scraping as Belinda had suggested.

“How do you do, miss?” He nodded to her. “All right then. Supposing you show me this body.”

“This way,” I said. I realized I had taken an instant and completely irrational dislike to him. I led him up the first flight of stairs, across the landing, and then up the second flight. I noticed he was puffing a little by the time we got to the top. Not used to climbing Scottish crags, obviously.

“He’s in the bath,” I said.

He still looked as if he wasn’t taking me seriously and was dying to prove me an idiot. “In the bath, eh? Are you sure that one of your friends didn’t have a drop too much and is now sleeping it off?”

“I doubt it. He’s underwater, for one thing. See for yourself.” I pushed open the bathroom door. He stepped inside, then visibly recoiled.

“I do see what you mean,” he said. “Yes, he’s definitely dead, all right. Rogers! In here! You better get on the blower to headquarters and tell them we’ll want the fingerprint kit, the camera with the flash, the lot.”

He stepped out of the bathroom and turned to me. “This is nasty. Very nasty indeed. Unless he decided to end his own life, it looks very much as if someone ended it for him.”

“Why would he choose to end his own life in Lady Georgiana’s bathtub?” Belinda said.

“And if he were going to do so, he wouldn’t have worn his overcoat,” I added.

“Unless he found the water a trifle chilly, or he wanted it to weigh him down,” Belinda said, with the faintest of twinkles in her eyes. I could tell she was finding this rather fun, but then she wasn’t the prime suspect. I found myself wondering if those of royal blood still had the privilege of being hanged with a silken cord, then decided that having my neck irritated by coarse hemp would be the least of my worries.

Inspector Sugg looked around, as if seeking inspiration. “Is there somewhere we can sit down and talk while I wait for my team to get here?”

“The morning room is opened up,” I said. “It’s this way.”

“The morning room,” he echoed. I wondered if he was playing with the word, or thought I had meant “mourning.” He followed me back down the stairs. We sat. I was wondering what the protocol was at this juncture and whether I should offer to serve tea. Since I had no servant and did not want to put myself into that role in front of the inspector, I declined.

“Right, let’s get to business,” he said. “Who was it found the body?”

“I did,” I said.

“And I was right behind her at the time,” Belinda added for good measure.

“What time was that, miss?”