It was in a pensive frame of mind that I went back to join the house party. If Wild Sal really was the killer, had she warned me to mind my own business or was she warning me that I was on her list? In which case how did I get there? I tried to analyze that list of people who had died, but I could find nothing in common among them, however hard I tried. If you had wanted a random cross sample of people you’d find in a country village, they would be that cross sample.

I was in no real mood for fun and games but Lady Hawse-Gorzley had rallied everyone while I was being questioned and had a makeshift stage set up for the pantomime. The performers were already getting into their costumes and were all laughing and joking as if nothing untoward had happened. I was glad I didn’t have a part to play and tried to look jolly as Darcy, Monty and Badger made everyone laugh as the stepmother and two ugly sisters. Ethel proved to be a witty fairy godmother and frankly stole the show. Nobody remembered their lines but everybody but me seemed to have a good time and they all declared they were famished by the time we changed for dinner.

The cook had certainly not stinted with the food she had left for us. The main part of the meal was a big turkey curry, with all the accompaniments, preceded by a spicy lentil soup and followed by a whipped cream dessert that slipped down wonderfully. I thought the curry was most tasty. The Wexlers and the Upthorpes eyed it suspiciously, never having eaten curry before. The colonel took one bite, then turned to his wife. “Call this a curry?” he said. “Where we live a good curry is hot enough to singe your eyebrows—you ask the memsahib. Our cook, Mukergee—splendid fellow, been with us forever—he’s a Bengali and he thinks all English are sissies because we can’t take it any hotter.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but this is plenty hot enough for me.” Mr. Upthorpe wiped his brow. “You’re welcome to your foreign food, Colonel. Give me a good English roast meat and two veg any day, that’s what I say.”

“I enjoyed some fine curry lunches when I stayed with my friend the viceroy in Delhi,” the countess declaimed when silence had fallen. “I must say, I miss them and I find this a real treat.”

Lady Hawse-Gorzley beamed. “Thank you, Countess. It’s nice to know that one’s planning is appreciated, and I know that Cook will be delighted with your compliment.”