“Money can always buy loyalty,” Darcy said. “The people of this area live a harsh life. If an instigator or anarchist were to pay them enough money, which of them might not be tempted to slip a little pill into food or drink?”

“That, of course, is the big question, isn’t it?” I said. “How was the poison administered? We were all sitting together at table. We all ate the same food and drink.”

The others nodded thoughtfully.

There was a sound from outside the archway and a servant appeared saying something to Count Dragomir. Dragomir looked up. “This man says that Prince Siegfried sent him to see what was happening. The prince was about to come in himself. He was annoyed at being told to stay away.”

Nicholas stepped forward to block the man’s view of Pirin’s body. “Please tell the prince that Field Marshal Pirin is being taken to his room,” he said to Dragomir in French. “He appears to have suffered a heart attack and there is regrettably nothing that anyone can do, other than wait and see if he pulls through. Sleep and perfect quiet are what he needs.”

Dragomir repeated this and the man withdrew. Dragomir turned back to us. “I have asked the two men in question to present themselves. They will carry the field marshal’s body to his room.”

“Excellent,” Nicholas said.

“But what about the tables?” Dragomir asked, looking through at them. “Our men will become suspicious if they are left untouched. They will know that something is wrong.”

“That’s true,” Darcy said. “Then we will rescue Pirin’s plate and glasses while we can, and they can take the rest. We have to assume that the poison was designed for one person and not randomly sprinkled on some part of the meal.”

“The meal was at an end, anyway,” Anton said. “Besides, I don’t see how anyone could have poisoned the food. It was served to all of us from the same platters. The risk of setting aside one slice of poisoned meat or one poisoned potato to be put on a particular plate is too great.”

“It is impossible,” Dragomir said. “The platters come up from the kitchen in the dumbwaiter. They are handed to servers who whisk them to the table as rapidly as possible so that the food stays hot. There are too many links in this chain.”

“I suppose it’s possible that a particular server could put a cyanide capsule on one special morsel of food as he came through from the serving area,” Darcy said thoughtfully, “but as you say, the risk of making a mistake is great.” He broke off as two burly men appeared at the door. Dragomir intercepted them and spoke to them for a while in a low voice. They looked across at the body and nodded. Then they went over to him and lifted him between them. It was clearly heavy going.