“Were you suggesting Preston might have wanted to avenge Maurice’s insults?” Victoria enquired.

“Oh, I say,” Preston objected. “Hold your horses. I’d gladly have darkened his daylights for him, but there’s a difference between giving a man the thrashing he deserves and, well, what happened.”

“There certainly is,” Pat said. “And you weren’t alone in your desire to give him a thrashing. My brother asked him to step outside, if you recall.”

“But it’s Preston whose finger-marks are on the corpse’s throat,” Victoria said. “Which is something we’ll have to explain to the police.” Her face was tense.

“That’s the problem,” Fen said. “An awful lot of us will have to explain very personal things when they arrive, because Mr. Haworth was an expert in digging up very personal things, wasn’t he? Digging them up, sniffing them out, and using them against one.”

Victoria frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He liked to make people unhappy. Everyone knows I’ve been engaged before but nobody else found it necessary to taunt me about it. He liked to make people do what he said, as with the Wittons, sitting there letting him speak monstrously because they were afraid of what he’d do if they crossed him. Or for profit. He made a good thing out of knowing people’s secrets, didn’t he?”

Preston’s mouth dropped open. “Are you suggesting he was a blackmailer?”

“Good heavens,” Victoria said. “Really? Although I can’t say I’m astonished. Are you sure?”

Pat nodded. Preston made a face. “If he was blackmailing someone, I’ve every sympathy for the victim. It’s a foul thing.”

“It is, but one can’t take the law into one’s own hands,” Victoria said. “Especially not if one attempts to cast suspicion on other people.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Fen said. “Do you think the killer used that particular weapon on purpose?”

Victoria gave her a sardonic look. “It seems likely that someone wished to direct suspicion at me. That said, it was also an easily available weapon, and extremely sharp.”

“Yes, the Earl told us the weapons on the walls are kept in good condition.”

“Uncle James insists. I dare say we’re fortunate the killer didn’t use one of the broadswords in the hall.”

Pat had an instant mental image of that, which she attempted to forget. Fen said, “That’s unusual, isn’t it? Who would have known that’s his practice?”

Victoria opened her mouth, paused, then gave Fen a look sharp as the kirpan blade. “The family and me, I dare say.”

“Mmm,” Fen said. “I don’t suppose you saw or heard anybody, between half past eleven and luncheon?”

Both shook their heads. “We had the door shut,” Victoria said, sounding self-possessed as ever but her cheeks reddening a little. “We really didn’t want to encounter Haworth. Is that the period—”