She was moving fast and branches clawed at my face as I hurried after her. Then, without warning, an impossibly tall shape stepped out between two large oak trees. I’d seen giraffes in the zoo, but up close like this and in a natural environment it seemed enormous. Miss Brightwell was moving fast, watching where she put her feet, and she didn’t seem to notice the giraffe coming straight at her until one of the great feet came down right in front of her. She looked up at it, gave a little gasp of horror, turned and ran straight into us.

“Hold her,” I shouted. I grabbed one arm, and Belinda, to my intense relief, grabbed the other.

“Let go of me,” she shouted, fighting like a mad thing. “Get yer bleedin’ hands off me before that bloody thing tramples us all to death.”

We hung on grimly. “It was only trying to get away from you,” I said. “See, it’s gone off into the trees.”

“This place is like a madhouse,” she said, struggling less violently now. “I wish I’d never come here.”

Although her face was familiar, her voice was not the polished, breathy film-star voice of Stella Brightwell.

“Wait a minute,” Belinda said. “You’re not Stella Brightwell.”

“I rather suspect that she’s Stella’s sister, Bella,” I said. “Or, as she used to be known, Flossie Oldham. Am I right?”

“How the bloody hell did you know that?” she demanded, still trying to wriggle free from us.

“Her sister?” Belinda looked at the woman whose arm she was still holding. “Yes, I can see now. There’s a strong resemblance, but . . .”

“But not quite as pretty—right?” Bella spat out the words. “Stella always had the looks and the talent, so they said, but I think I’ve done well enough in my own little way.”

“What does she mean?” Belinda asked.

“I think she means she’s been a very successful jewel thief, slipping into posh house parties where her sister was a guest. Nobody would think it strange if they happened to bump into her, disguised as her sister.”

“Good heavens,” Belinda said. “So you came here to steal the candlesticks?”

“You’re too bleeding clever,” Bella said.

“But something went wrong and Mr. Goldman caught you, so you hit him over the head?” I asked.

“No, of course I didn’t. I wouldn’t do a thing like that. I’ve never hurt anybody,” she said, shaking her head so vehemently that I noticed she was wearing a wig. A wig that was identical to Stella’s hairstyle. Aha! “I found him lying there when I came into the library, didn’t I? Lying there with his head all bashed in. I realized then that it would look bad for me if I was caught, so all I wanted to do was get away.”