Bess marched over to Sven. He was curled in the fetal position on the ballroom floor, murmuring to himself. George snorted. “He really looks like a baby.” Bess bent down and laid a hand on Sven’s shoulder. Though we couldn’t hear what she was saying, Sven’s face told the whole story. He was being dumped.

And just when it seemed like Sven’s night couldn’t get much worse, one of the police officers approached Bess and him, looking red-faced. The officer was clearly not happy about their little display, or the panic it had caused.

Meanwhile, Chief McGinnis was assembling a search party. It seemed that the Duchess had disappeared in the confusion. Mr. Gatewood was missing too. What had become of the stranger who shoved me on their way into the ballroom?

Bess walked back over to us, and I told her and George to hang out in the doorway. “I need you two to keep an eye out for Zeke or Diana Yip. And Mona Pearl. Text me if you see any of them in the gallery or the ballroom. And make sure Rufus Le Crous doesn’t try anything funny. He’ll say he’s just looking for the bathroom, but don’t listen to him. He’s on a mission. And watch out for Angelica Velvet. She’s hungry for drama. If the Duchess or Mr. Gatewood reappear, call me.”

“Sure, Nancy. Is there anyone else we should watch for? D. B. Cooper? Banksy? Cinderella?” George quipped.

“Har, har. I think that’s all my suspects. For now, anyway.” Even if they didn’t take it seriously, I knew I could trust Bess and George to help with my detective work.

I wandered back into the ballroom, moving quietly so as not to draw unwanted attention. The guests were gathered in small groups, discussing the events of the last half hour. The Duchess’s throne stood empty under the light of the chandelier.

The Duchess and Mr. Gatewood couldn’t have exited through the crowd or out the door, or I would’ve spotted them. George and I had been standing in the doorway. So it had to be the throne. …

I’d investigated mysteries in enough mansions to know their owners usually had at least one secret passageway or hidden door. Based on all the eccentric homes I’d visited in River Heights, I was starting to think the wealthy actually preferred creeping around inside the walls to spending time in their luxurious rooms.

I looked around to make sure no one was watching, then climbed the three wooden steps to the platform, just as the Duchess and Mr. Gatewood had done before the lights went out. I approached the throne cautiously, in case anyone was waiting to pop out from behind. No one did.

So I did something very bold. I took a seat on the Duchess’s throne.

The seat was carved from a broad slab of polished stone. It wasn’t very comfortable. I got up again and leaned forward to examine the edges, looking for a crack or knob, but I couldn’t locate so much as a seam where the seat joined the back and arms of the gigantic chair. I knocked on the seat to see if it sounded hollow, then shook my hand, regretting the move. The stone was hard.