If Hanna was going to say anything in response to the colonel’s claims about the urgent need to deploy lethal force, they were quickly drowned out by the sounds of gunfire.

After the first round of shooting, the professor decided that it was rather too noisy for him, even if it might save his life one day, and set off back to the hotel for a stiff drink. Although he did, Liza couldn’t help noticing, keep the gun. Liza and Hanna didn’t last much longer. Whatever brief inkling Liza might have felt that a handgun might be useful dried up quickly. There was just no way a group of relative strangers all earnestly preparing for the moment they needed to shoot each other in the head could be anything but a disaster.

Their ears still ringing, they walked back up to the hotel and settled down in the drawing room, where they found Reverend Lincoln sipping coffee and tapping something into his phone.

The Blaines settled onto the sofa opposite him, and Liza was slightly reassured to realise that they were sitting closer together than they had a couple of days ago, and that even with the threat of death there was less tension in the air.

“Planning a sermon, Reverend?” asked Liza, hoping that it wasn’t an insulting way to open a conversation.

“Yes, actually. I’d be a pretty awful vicar if I couldn’t get at least a couple of Sundays’ worth of material out of this experience.”

The sounds of gunshots were still echoing up from the grounds, although in a way that was almost comforting. If people were still practicing shooting, that suggested nobody had been shot yet. Of course, it could only be a matter of time.

A thought wormed its way into Liza’s brain and, although she wasn’t really meaning to pry, she let it come out of her mouth. “I’d have thought you’d want a gun yourself,” she said. “If you’re worried somebody’s coming after you.”

“I’ve left that part of my life behind.” The reverend typed a few more thoughts into his phone. “If that gets me killed, so be it. But I don’t think a gun would have saved Malcom Ackroyd from falling to his death from a balcony, or Belloc from walking into a trap.”

“At fucking last.” Hanna leaned back on the sofa. “I was beginning to think I was the only one around here with any sense.”

Reverend Lincoln shrugged. “If I was sensible I’d have taken a weapon. They’ve saved my life before. But I won’t risk harming another person by accident, and I think this hotel is becoming a place where accidents are very, very likely. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I should probably retire. The guns are beginning to quiet, and I might actually be able to sleep.”