‘Someone’s trying to get you accused of the murder,’ said Daisy.

‘Whoever it is must have been watching and followed us,’ said Rose. ‘There are very few guests. Did you notice anyone in particular?’

Daisy furrowed her brow. ‘Let me see. Last night was busier. There was that elderly couple; a travelling salesman, or said he was, talked loudly to the couple; a spinster-looking lady and a sort of youngish man.’

‘What was he like? The young man?’

‘I didn’t notice him much. Only a quick glance. He was seated at the table behind us. How would anyone recognize us with our disguises?’

‘Someone who was watching the house and followed us from London. We’ll need to find somewhere else,’ said Rose frantically. ‘And what do we do with these letters? If he can find us, the police can find us.’

‘Burn them,’ said Daisy, looking at the fire.

‘They’re evidence!’

‘They’re evidence against you!’

The door burst open and Rose let out a scream of terror. Harry Cathcart, tired and furious, having set out before dawn after a restless night, strode into the room. ‘What the blazes are you doing? Don’t you know you made yourself look even guiltier by fleeing? What’s that you’re holding?’ He snatched the letters from Rose. ‘Where did you get those?’

‘I found them this morning,’ said Rose. ‘I was going to unpack and there they were in the bottom of my trunk.’

‘So someone followed you. Wait here.’

Harry rushed out again.

Rose was beginning to feel irrationally angry. He should have said something like, ‘Thank God, you are safe.’ Not berated her as if she were a guilty schoolgirl.

‘Listen,’ said Daisy. ‘The wind has dropped suddenly.’

‘I’m nervous waiting here. Don’t you see, Daisy, that whoever tried to make me look guilty did the murder himself? So there is a murderer in this hotel.’

‘If he’d wanted to kill us, he would have done so already,’ said Daisy. ‘All he wanted to do was make you look guilty.’

Harry came back. ‘I’ve checked the hotel register. One man called Mr Terence Cramley left this morning. The others all seem respectable. I’ll go out and search the town for him. I’ve got a description. I’ll call at the station and see if he’s taken a train. Kerridge gave me only two days to find you. Pack up your things. We’ve got to get out of here.’

Kerridge was summoned that morning by Sir Ian Wetherby. ‘I have just sustained a visit from His Majesty’s equerry, Lord Herring,’ began Wetherby. ‘His Majesty wishes all inquiries into the death of Dolores Duval to continue quietly. I believe the editors of the newspapers have all been informed. His Majesty is distressed that Lady Rose should even be considered guilty.’ The earl’s been busy, thought Kerridge cynically. ‘I also received a telephone call from the prime minister,’ Wetherby went on. ‘He suggests that as Miss Duval was no better than she should be, to quote his words, then it stands to reason that some low life got rid of her.’