“Well, one thing is for sure,” Darcy said. “He’ll have a hard time getting away.”

“If you really think it was one of us, then he’ll stay and hope to bluff it out,” I said. “And if it was your clever burglar then he’s probably already long gone.”

“You know, the awful thing, Georgie,” Darcy said as he ushered me from the room, “I’m not exactly surprised, are you? There was so much tension in this place. Mrs. Goldman arriving out of the blue. That unpleasant fight before dinner . . . the dustup with the Spaniard—Where is he, by the way? I haven’t seen him since dinner and he hardly said a word then.”

“He went off to bed right after dinner. He’s been upset all day.”

“So he was someone who wasn’t accounted for when Cy Goldman was murdered.”

“Yes, but . . . he’s sleeping in one of the cottages, isn’t he? If he’d come in through the front door, he’d have had to cross the foyer to get to the library corridor and we would have seen him.”

“Someone should go and wake him. He’ll need to be awake and alert when the police get here.” He closed the library door and we stood in the darkness of that hallway. “I have a bad feeling about this, Georgie. I’ve heard enough about the American way of justice to know that it’s often shoot first and ask questions afterward. A rural sheriff isn’t likely to have the skills to solve this. I rather fear that it’s up to us.”

“Up to us? How can we solve it? I mean we can hardly question our fellow guests, can we?”

“We can do some preliminary thinking—work out who was where, who had a motive, who had the opportunity.”

“As to that, who could it be? You men were all together smoking cigars with Mr. Goldman. Perhaps the sheriff will try to suggest that you were in a conspiracy and you all killed him together.”

“That’s not even funny, Georgiana. He may well think that.”

“Oh golly. I didn’t mean it seriously. Sorry. I don’t think even a sheriff could believe that Craig Hart killed Mr. Goldman. Craig’s a big star. Mr. Goldman made him one. They needed each other. And had no quarrel as far as I could see.”

“Anyway, Craig has to be in the clear. He and I left the library together. Ronnie left before us.”

“And Algie?” I asked.

“He must have left when we did. Yes, I believe he followed us down the hallway. You know what he’s like—never quite part of the conversation, always hanging around the periphery, hoping to be included.”