“They are, sir. I’ve had them all in for questioning and made them show me. I’ve interviewed the serving staff and other diners who claim to have observed all four of them, sitting together near the door. The four have clear and accurate memories of the menu. D. Gisbourne was voluble in his condemnation of the quality of the rice pudding. Skin too thick, apparently. They all tell the same tale. Their story is that during the aperitif upstairs in Fanshawe’s rooms, before they had a chance even to seat themselves, a quarrel of a nasty nature broke out between the two townies who’d been invited. Fanshawe was mortified by the unsavoury display and pettishly called off the banquet. Dismissed the four of them to the dining hall. They claimed not to be best pleased to end their day with shepherd’s pie.”

“And Fanshawe remained behind up on the third floor with the two warring guests? They ask us to believe this codswallop?”

“I’ve listened and noted, sir,” Redfyre said wearily. “I made a public performance of taking their fingerprints. Mostly to annoy them, but also to compare with those on the glasses upstairs in the Cromwell wing, where the incident occurred, and as a precaution in case of flight. They’re all poised to go down very soon.”

“Exactly! Redfyre, I don’t want that Gisbourne fellow going any farther than the Parade—”

“It’s all right, sir. He has been duly warned. And Miss Wells, who has access to college records, is compiling for me a list of home addresses and close family contacts.”

“Did she think of doing that for the victim? I take it his family has been informed?”

“It wasn’t easy. Fanshawe was one of those chaps whose whole meaningful life is—was passed in college. He had to clear out of his rooms during the vacation at some point, if only to fumigate and redecorate, but he went kicking and screaming and hanging on to the door handle. His nearest and dearest is a sister in Norfolk. So he doesn’t have to travel far from his books. He stays with her in the holidays. He has a small cottage on the estate, apparently.”

“Right-oh. Now tell me, Redfyre, why the hell it took four days before anyone noticed the body. Did no one come looking for him? Did no one clap eyes on the corpse?”

“Someone had taken the precaution, on leaving, of putting the oak up sign on the door. So of course, no one tried to enter, although the door was unlocked.”

MacFarlane drew in a breath with irritation. “Well, of course!”