“You heard the ghastly news, I take it,” she said, hearing my footsteps behind her. “They must have made a mistake. The poor old thing probably died in her sleep from natural causes. It wouldn’t be like Miss Effie to forget to light the gas or to turn it on by mistake. She’s the efficient one of the three. She was the one who looked after the other two and kept them in line.” She sounded genuinely upset. “It’s not right,” she added. “Three deaths in three days. We’ll have people really start to believe in the Lovey Curse and then my guests will all want to go home.”

“I’ve always heard that bad things come in threes, haven’t you?” I said to her. “Three deaths in a row is not unprecedented, especially as they are all so very different. Perhaps we’ll find there was a malfunction with the gas fire. Perhaps the wind blew out a low flame. All kinds of simple explanations.”

She looked at me as if she had only just realized to whom she was speaking. “Lady Georgiana, I really can’t expect you to get involved in our local unpleasantness. Why don’t you go home and have breakfast? I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

“I thought maybe I might be able to help,” I said.

“Well, all right. Won’t say no. Could use the company. Dashed awful, isn’t it?”

We were just crossing the road when I heard my name being called and saw my grandfather waving. “Just been out to get the morning papers,” he said, striding toward us. “Mrs. Huggins likes her Daily Mirror and Mr. Coward likes the Times and I like a morning walk. Lovely down here, ain’t it? Smashing, eh?”

“Yes, it’s lovely,” I said.

He picked up something in my manner. “Why, what’s the matter, love?”

“One of the old ladies who lives in this house has just died in suspicious circumstances. This is Lady Hawse-Gorzley. You met her daughter yesterday.” I turned to her. “This is my grandfather. He used to be in the Metropolitan Police. Perhaps it might be a good thing if he came with us.”

“Oh, dear.” Lady Hawse-Gorzley looked worried. “Surely we’re only dealing with another ghastly accident, aren’t we? You yourself just said that deaths come in threes.”

“I said bad things come in threes,” I corrected. “And I hope we are just dealing with a ghastly accident. But it couldn’t hurt if my grandfather came with us to take a look.”

“But the ladies won’t be ready to receive gentlemen callers at this hour,” Lady Hawse-Gorzley exclaimed in horror. “They may still be in their night attire.”

Granddad laughed. “I’ve seen worse than night attire in my thirty years on the force,” he said. “Still, I won’t come in if I’m not wanted.”

Lady Hawse-Gorzley relented. “It might be useful to have a trained professional eye on the scene. And I suppose the police will have to be called eventually.”

We went up the path to the front door. It was a solid, square Georgian house in local Devon sandstone and was of pleasing proportions. The type of house the old wool merchants built for themselves when wool meant prosperity. We found the front door still ajar. Lady Hawse-Gorzley pushed it open and we were met in the front hall by a frantic-looking housekeeper. Her apron was on askew and her hair an unsightly mess.