“But you are a young thing.” Marie smiled brightly at me. “You should not concern yourself about a stolen necklace. You should be out dancing and having fun, and meeting interesting men. But never an Irishman, remember. They make wonderful lovers but poor husbands.”

A sob rose unbidden in my throat and I forced it into a hiccup, then remembered my manners. “My mother is giving a party tonight at her villa,” I said. “Perhaps you would like to come? I suspect it will be quite informal.”

She smiled, a little sadly. “Oh, no, my dear. We do not go into society any longer. We allowed ourselves the indulgence of the fashion show the other evening, but we rarely go out at night. And all our friends are dead.”

I nodded in commiseration.

Suddenly her face brightened up. “You must come to lunch,” she said. “If you have time in your busy social schedule. It would brighten the day of two old dinosaurs.”

“Thank you, I’d love to,” I said.

“Come tomorrow,” she said. “Any day you like. You’ll find us at the Hotel de la Méditerranée. On the Promenade. Not the quality of the Negresco, of course, but a high class of clientele, and they take good care of us.” She reached into a tiny silk purse. “Here is my card. I will tell the hotel receptionist to expect you.”

I thanked them again and watched them making their slow way along the boulevard. And I realized that they knew nothing about the murder or my arrest. As the princess had said, they did not get out in society much. Would they feel so happy about inviting a suspected murderer into their rooms?

I met up with my policeman again and went back to the motorcar. As we passed the port, I remembered that I had planned to interview the crew of Sir Toby’s yacht and asked Franz to stop the car.

“I wish to speak to the crew of Sir Toby’s yacht,” I announced to my policeman.

“I am not sure . . .” my policeman began, but I cut him off. “Can you see any reason why I shouldn’t talk to the crew? They are not under suspicion, are they? I am. I have to do everything I can to clear my name.”

With that, I got out of the car and strode down the dockside to the yacht. The gangplank was lowered and I went on board.

“Hello!” I called, and almost immediately a face appeared from belowdecks.

“Oh, it’s you, miss,” he said. He was a young Englishman with a trace of Yorkshire accent. “I’m sorry, the police said we weren’t to leave and nobody was allowed on board.”

“They don’t think Sir Toby was killed here, do they?”

“The police don’t let us know what they’re thinking,” he said. “We told them that Sir Toby was alive and well when we docked here.”