“The kitchen is at the back of the house, isn’t it?” Belinda said. “A long way from these rooms. She couldn’t have seen Tony going into my room, or the murderer, whoever it was, if she had been making cocoa.”

“I think Mrs. Mannering might be capable of plotting a murder, don’t you?” I said. “I mean, look at that face. But I suspect it would be the sneaky type—poisoning someone or arranging an accident. I can’t see her stabbing with a dagger. Too messy and the sheets will need cleaning. You can see how she values cleanliness and tidiness.” I glanced across at her and had to grin.

Belinda looked at me and started to laugh. “Oh, Georgie, it’s not funny, is it?”

“Not at all. Absolutely terrifying. But if it really is your uncle Francis, then they’ll find him soon enough.”

“What if he’s sailed off to the Continent or something? And how will we ever prove it’s him?”

“He’ll have left fingerprints on the dagger. Maybe in a room where he hid. He’ll have touched door handles.”

She grabbed at my hand. “Georgie, you’re so good at all this. You’ve solved crimes before. You’ll save me, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” I said, again sounding more confident than I felt.

Chapter 17

NOW EARLY MORNING, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18

TREWOMA

Oh gosh, something absolutely awful has happened and everyone thinks it’s poor Belinda. I’ve promised I’ll help her but I don’t know how. Who wanted to kill Tony? And harm Belinda too, because the scene was clearly set up to make her appear guilty. I do hope it is her uncle Francis because that would sew it all up so neatly, and, besides, I don’t think he’s a very nice person. I hope the inspector is not one of the bumbling sort.

I had crept into bed beside Belinda and we lay, side by side, staring at the ceiling, neither of us either willing or able to sleep until we heard a loud knocking at the front door. Then there were voices echoing up from the foyer.

“Powerful beastly night, ain’t it, sir?” came the constable’s voice. “Sorry to have called you out, but you’ll see for yourself.”

“This had better be good,” the new, sharper male voice was saying. “You know what people are like at these posh houses. They think it’s a tremendous joke to play pranks on poor stupid policemen like us. Are you sure they didn’t stage a murder just for their own amusement? If I hear a background of chuckles, you’re going to be in a lot of trouble, Hood.”

“Oh no, sir, I can assure you nobody here was doing any chuckling,” the constable’s voice replied. “And I think I know a dead body when I see one.”