“No. The killer was crafty, Lady Georgiana. He fired a single shot, from a rifle, we suspect, to bring down his quarry, then he fired his shotgun at close range to finish him off and make it seem as if it was this that struck an artery and killed BB.”

“Goodness,” I said. “That’s interesting. So that’s what Godfrey Beverley meant.”

“Godfrey Beverley? The gossip chappy?”

“Yes, he’s staying in the area. He mentioned something about why anyone would need two guns. Do you think he might have seen something important?”

“I’ll check him out. Do you know where he’s staying?”

“At a nearby inn. That’s all I know. It shouldn’t be too hard. There aren’t many inns around here.”

“I’ll put men onto it, then.”

“And all you have to do is look for a rifle that’s been fired recently.”

“As you say, ‘all we have to do,’ ” he echoed dryly. “I doubt that the killer will just leave the rifle out for inspection, and it won’t be easy to gain permission to search the rooms of certain royal personages.”

I stared at him, coffee cup poised in midair. “Surely you can’t think that a member of the royal family could have done this?”

“I have to consider everybody on the scene as a possible suspect,” he said. “Regardless of birth.”

“Golly,” I said, before I remembered that it made me sound like a schoolgirl. Note to self: Work on developing more sophisticated means of exclamation.

Sir Jeremy put down his own cup and stood up. “What I would like to do now, if you don’t mind, my lady, is to take a look at BB’s room.”

“Certainly,” I said. “If you’ll come this way. I’m not sure which one it was but one of the servants can tell us.”

I led him up the central staircase. He nodded in satisfaction at the swords, shields, banners and stags’ heads on the walls. “None of this namby-pamby stuff,” he commented.

“No, we Rannochs have been killing people very successfully for generations,” I said.

He gave me a quizzical half smile. “So am I to consider that a relative of yours might be an ideal suspect?”

“Nothing to gain,” I said. “Binky’s thirty-second in line. I don’t think he’s up to bumping off thirty-one people. Besides, he’s laid up with a mangled ankle.” And I related the details.

Sir Jeremy frowned. “And you think this could be related to our investigation?”

“I’m almost sure of it,” I said. “I don’t know if you’ve met my brother, but he’s a harmless, likeable chap. I’m sure he has no enemies. The only thing that differentiates him from the man in the street is that he happens to be a duke and cousin to the king.”