Only Burgh was actually still carrying his gun, but he obediently lowered it. “I should—I should summon the staff and think about—oh dear. Are you going to be okay, Sir Richard?”

“She shot me,” Sir Richard repeated. “She bloody shot me.”

While the professor and the reverend were taking their leave, Liza looked around the room in a this-means-something kind of way. There were pieces to put together here, she was sure of it. She just didn’t know what they were. “I don’t think she did,” she said, although she wasn’t quite sure why she thought that. Or didn’t think it. There was just something about the angles—something about the people involved.

Without saying anything else, she walked over to where the reverend had been standing, trying not to disturb the colonel’s body more than it had already been disturbed. There was a hole in the wall, which, despite her total lack of expertise, Liza was certain was from a bullet, fired from about waist-height, assuming it had travelled fairly level.

“Should I ask?” asked Sir Richard.

“Two bullets went this way.” She was still mostly talking to herself. “One was Mr Burgh, the other had to be Ruby, so it wasn’t her that shot you.”

“Does it matter?” Sir Richard was staggering to his feet. “Help me up, Burgh. I’m going to need to see a first aider. Preferably a good first aider.”

Mr Burgh helped Sir Richard to his feet and the two men limped out of the room, Sir Richard trying not to drip too much blood as he went.

The moment they were alone, Hanna dropped onto the bed and put her head in her hands. “That was awful.”

“It could have been worse.”

“Somebody was shot.”

Sitting down, Liza put an arm around her wife. “I know it’s pretty crappy that we’re in a situation that yeah, but not fatally is the best thing I can say, but … yeah, but not fatally.”

Hanna folded herself against Liza’s side, burying her face in her shoulder. “We should probably get out of here. It seems weird to be having this conversation next to a guy’s body.”

The door opened and a woman entered. She was about as high as Mr Burgh’s shoulder and had long curly hair.

“Mary?” asked Liza, really wishing she’d paid more attention to the staff.

“Yes?” The woman had a mild Scottish accent and didn’t seem especially thrilled to have walked into an interrogation. “I’m—umm—I’m supposed to be dealing with the body.”

“On your own?”