“One of you.” The bones were stark under Lady Anna’s skin. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it? One of you killed him.”

“The servants—” Jack began.

“Have all been with us for years,” Jimmy flashed. “And had no reason to kill him.”

“And any of us did?” Jack retorted, and then his face changed. The silence spread like spilled oil, rolling and dripping over them all.

“You hated him,” Lady Anna said. She was looking straight ahead, not at anyone in particular. Jimmy and Preston both shifted. “You all hated him and one of you killed him.”

“One of us did, yes,” Bill said. “Would anyone care to confess?”

“What?” Jimmy’s eyes bulged.

“The police will come tomorrow and the first thing they’ll ask is what reason any of us had to dislike Maurice Haworth. As Lady Anna says, there will be a lot to talk about.”

A cry of protest came from several throats at that brutal statement. Bill ignored it. “We’re all going to have to account for our whereabouts, and our motivations, and each other’s motivations. The police do not respect personal feelings, and they will find out the killer in the end. Whoever murdered him could spare us all a great deal by admitting it.”

He was carefully not looking at anyone, so Pat scanned every face she could. She saw anger, shock, incomprehension. She couldn’t see that anybody looked guilty, whatever guilty looked like.

The silence stretched for a moment, then Bill shrugged. “In that case, I suppose there’s not much more to be said except, of course, that nobody ought to leave the house.”

“Well, there is something else,” Fen said. “I’m sorry to labour the point, but either one of the servants is a homicidal maniac or someone in here is a murderer, and I’m a little nervous about going to bed under these circumstances!”

Thunder cracked overhead, with stage-perfect timing. Several of the women jumped and shrieked.

“For heaven’s sake,” Preston said. “You’re not in danger.”

“That depends on why somebody killed Maurice,” Victoria pointed out.

“We could pair up,” Pat said. “Or at least anyone who’d feel safer that way could. Er...” she added, as the flaw in that dawned on her.

“Indeed,” Victoria said. “One would need to be sure of one’s pair.”

The Countess put a hand over her mouth. Preston moved closer to Victoria, a protective sway.

“Anyone who wishes to, should,” Bill said. “In fact it might not be a bad idea if we could all vouch for each other’s whereabouts from now on.”

“What do you mean?” Pat asked.

“Just thinking ahead. I can’t see there’s much more we can do except batten down the hatches, summon the police tomorrow, and wait.”

“Wait,” Lady Anna said. “Wait for what? She hated him, and her father’s knife killed him! What are you waiting for?”