Fog still draped over oak trees and occasional bursts of birdsong echoed strangely so that it was hard to place where the sounds were coming from. The Gothic castle loomed up ahead of us and somewhere off to our right there was a weird flapping sound. I moved a little closer to Darcy. I could well understand how frightened Claudette had been last night. I was rather glad to have Darcy beside me. But then I was always glad when he was near me. I sneaked him a little glance and he smiled, making me feel warm and glowing inside, as if nothing else really mattered.

As we stepped into the foyer of the castle there was no sign of anyone. No sheriff’s man was guarding the front door, at any rate. I wondered if anything had happened while we’d been gone.

“It doesn’t look as if you’ll get any breakfast,” I said. “Nobody’s up yet.”

“Then let’s find the kitchen and see if we can make ourselves some coffee,” Darcy said, going ahead of me down the main hall and into a narrow tiled hallway leading to the back of the house. As we came closer to the kitchen we heard sounds.

“You see. Someone’s at work in the kitchen. We shall get breakfast after all,” he said, turning back to me.

The kitchen was surprisingly twentieth century compared to the rest of the house. There was a large shining gas range and even a refrigerator. When we entered we saw Maria at the stove. She spun around at the sound of our voices.

“Oh, you scare me. I not expect”—she put her hand up to her large bosom—“and I apologize. I don’t have your breakfast ready yet. That sonofabitch sheriff don’t let us go to bed before early morning so I don’t wake at my usual time.”

“That’s all right, Maria,” Darcy said. “We’re up rather early, I know, but I want to drive into Los Angeles. Do you happen to have any coffee?”

“Coffee is in the percolator on the stove, senor. Help yourself. And you tell me what you want me to cook for you—eggs, ham, pork chop, pancakes . . .”

“Just some toast would be fine for me,” I said.

“That’s all Miss Brightwell wants this morning,” Maria said. “Real cut up, she is. She normally has a good breakfast but not today.”

“Miss Brightwell’s up and around, is she?”