I led them outside and made them lean over the railing to look down at Sir Toby’s pool.

“Mon Dieu,” Coco said. “Is he drowned? Call for help. He may still be saved, perhaps.”

“No, I’m sure he’s dead,” I said. “I saw him in the pool and thought he was just swimming, you know—then I saw the back of his head was all horribly bloody.”

“How awful,” Mummy said. “He must have fallen and hit his head, then collapsed into the pool.”

“We should call the police,” Vera said.

“Why should we notify the police?” Coco asked. “Let his servants do this if they wish. It is strange that none of them has noticed the plight of their master. We can alert them to this matter, if you wish.”

“No, don’t,” I said sharply, causing all three women to look at me. “They might touch something and disturb evidence.”

“Evidence?” my mother asked.

“We have to view it as a crime scene,” I said. “He can’t have hit the back of his head and then fallen forward into the pool. That just isn’t possible. Someone must have come up on him from behind and hit him over the head so that he fell into the water.”

“Good God,” Vera said. “Are you suggesting that somebody killed him deliberately? Murdered him?”

“Well, it does seem that way,” I said. “That’s why I think we should call the police—and just pray they don’t send out the same awful inspector.”

“You’d better do it, Coco,” Mummy said carelessly. “You know how bad my French is.”

Coco went into the hall and we heard her rattling away on the telephone in French, “Yes—a man floating in his pool. Of course he appears to be dead. Nobody lies in a pool without moving unless he is dead. And yes, you should send someone out immediately.” She replaced the receiver. “Idiots, all of them.”

About fifteen minutes later a police motorcar drew up outside and we were relieved to see that it contained two smart young gendarmes. They were most polite and almost in awe of Coco as she ushered them through to the terrace and then pointed down at the body.

“Do you happen to know who this man is?” one of the policemen asked.

“Yes. Sir Toby Groper. He owns the villa,” Mummy said. “At least I presume it is he. We can’t see his face, but the body looks like him. Disgustingly fat around the middle.”

“How long ago did you discover this shocking scene?” the young man asked.

“We only just arrived home to be greeted by Lady Georgiana with the news,” Vera said.