“You could have left the candlesticks where they were. Why did you put one in your sister’s bed? I take it that was you?” I asked.

She gave me an evil grin. “Oh, they found that, did they? It was only to confuse things a bit and give me time to get away safely.”

“But your sister might even be charged with the murder—at the very least with the robbery,” I said. “Don’t you care about that? Why implicate her, of all people?”

“What’s she ever done for me?” Bella spat out the words. “I was only a kid when she said she was going to America and she didn’t want me to come with her. I’d only hold her back, she said. So she left me to fend for myself. She became a big star, didn’t she? I kept hoping she’d send for me but she never did. And then when I caught the flu in 1919, and nearly died, I wrote to her but she never bothered to write back. I couldn’t work for a while, but then I kept myself going, in the chorus in pantomimes and seaside shows, but the funny thing was that everywhere I went people kept telling me I looked like Stella Brightwell. So I thought—why not? Why not use that resemblance to my advantage for once? And it worked. I’ve done very nicely for myself and I don’t plan to stop now.”

“I should have thought a murder charge might put a stop to your little business,” I said.

“You can’t pin anything on me. If they ask me I just came to get a glimpse of my long-lost dear sister. I’ve never even met that poor bloke. I had no reason to kill him.”

“So they won’t find your fingerprints on the candlesticks?” I asked.

She snorted. “Do you think I’m stupid? I always wear gloves.”

“I know,” I said. “They found a bloody black glove in the grounds. And a bloody print made by that glove on the window frame. Did you really climb out of that window? It’s an awfully long way to the ground.”

“I didn’t go down. I went up. It was quite easy to lower myself down from Stella’s window and then climb back up again. I do it all the time.”

“You really are amazing,” I said in spite of myself. “Frightfully brave. The way you drove in through the main gate after everyone else, pretending to be Stella.”

“It’s always worked before,” she said. “No reason why it shouldn’t.”

“But what if Stella had been driving another of the cars?”

“I watched you lot leave, of course. I saw the young bloke driving and the car’s windows were tinted. I thought there was a good chance they wouldn’t notice who the passengers were.”