Stone interrupted. “May I offer anyone an alcoholic beverage?”

“Yes,” they replied, simultaneously. Stone showed them into the library and poured them each an icy vodka gimlet, then one for himself, and served them on a silver cocktail tray. They toasted life, then he went to inspect their dining table. All was in order, and the two bottles of old claret rested on a side table, along with a candlestick, two crystal decanters, and two tasting glasses. All was well, so he returned to the two women, who were occupying the Chesterfield sofa, sitting slightly closer to each other than absolutely necessary, hands touching.

Stone had just sat down when the iPhone on the table next to him rang. He stood and picked it up. “Excuse me, please,” he said to the two women, then he stepped out into the hall. “Yes?”

“Scramble.”

“Scrambled.”

“Why haven’t you returned my calls?” Lance asked, irritably.

“I wasn’t aware that you called,” Stone said. “I was out riding.”

“Stone, it’s important that you keep that phone on your person at all times.”

“I’ll try and remember that,” Stone said. “What’s up?”

“You and Felicity,” Lance replied.

Where does he get this stuff, Stone asked himself. “And exactly what does that mean?”

“It means that we recorded a conversation between two men in London who were apparently discussing the demise of at least one of you, perhaps both. The recording quality was very poor, and we only got part of it.”

“The important part, I hope.”

“I hope, too.”

“What do you suggest?” Stone asked.

“It’s too late to mount a defense at this point. All I can suggest is that you be bloody careful.”

“All right, I’ll do that.”

“Where are you?”

“At Windward Hall. Felicity is here for dinner, along with another friend.”

“Another woman friend?”

“Yes, as it happens.”

“My goodness,” Lance said.

Stone could hear him smiling. “Who were the two men you recorded?”

“One we couldn’t identify, but he was British. The other was Wilfred Thomas, the bookbinder earl, whom we have previously discussed.”

“Right. Is there anything else, Lance? I’d like to return to my guests.”

“Oh, all right, but arm yourself,” Lance said, then hung up.

Stone returned to the library and resumed his seat, but the two women were deep in conversation and ignored him. He hoped it wasn’t going to be that kind of evening.

Geoffrey called them do dinner, and they took their seats. “Shall I decant the wines, sir?”

“Yes, please, but only one bottle. They’re quite old, and I don’t want them to get too much air for too long.”

“Of course, sir. Which one shall I uncork first?”

“Oh, the older one, I guess. That’s what, the Palmer?”