“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Lady Middlesex said brusquely, “but there are no footprints leading from the castle, apart from yours and Mr. O’Mara’s this morning. I checked particularly when we went on our little walk. He is still here, you mark my words.” She looked down at Miss Deer-Harte and nodded.

“I shall be extra vigilant, Lady M,” Miss Deer-Harte said. “If he is hiding somewhere he will have to come out eventually. He will need a bathroom and food and drink. I shall be watching for him.”

“Well said, Deer-Harte. Splendid stuff. We’ll show them how quickly and efficiently things are done when the flower of British womanhood takes over.” She slapped Miss Deer-Harte on the back, almost knocking her over. “Onward and upward then.”

And she marched down the hall like a general leading troops into battle.

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

I was left alone in the cold, drafty hallway. I hadn’t had time to consider what I should do about my big discovery. Whom should I tell that Prince Nicholas was the intended victim? Obviously not the two English ladies. They had caused enough trouble already. In fact, if Lady Middlesex hadn’t spoken up, Pirin’s death might well have been considered a heart attack and we wouldn’t be in this uncomfortable situation with that horrid man Patrascue snooping on us. I couldn’t tell Prince Anton because it was just possible that he was the murderer—although I found that hard to believe. But he did have knowledge of chemistry, he was agile and, as Belinda had said, he was reckless and loved danger. That left Siegfried or Matty and I rather suspected that Siegfried would report anything straight to Patrascue. Matty would probably think it was all a huge joke and not want to take it seriously. So the only person I could talk to was Nicholas himself. He had a right to know and he might have his own suspicions.

I was on my way to seek him out when a clear, melodious voice echoed down the hallway. “Yoohoo, darling!” and there was my mother, hurrying toward me, her long mink coat flying out around her. “There you are, my sweet,” she said. “We’ve been in the same building for several days and hardly had a chance to say a word to each other.”

She caught up with me and we kissed, several inches from each cheek, the way we always did. In spite of the way she showed copious affection to everything in trousers, my mother was not much of a hugger when it came to other women.

“That’s because you don’t like being seen with me,” I said. “It reminds people you are old enough to have a daughter my age.”