She was talking to me, but glass-panelled doors offer little soundproofing. The waiter turned and smiled apologetically.

  ‘Dinner is served from seven o’clock, my lady,’ he said loudly and clearly. ‘If you take a seat in the salon, my colleague will be happy to bring you an aperitif.’

  She smiled and nodded. ‘Thank you, we shall,’ she said.

  We took what had already become our usual seats and the waiter arrived with his customary promptness and stealth.

  ‘A little something to wet your whistles and whet your appetites, ladies?’

  ‘It’s as though you read our minds,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘It’s hardly a conjuring trick, my lady,’ he said. ‘More often than not, someone sitting in the salon is after a drink of some sort.’

  ‘He’s a card, isn’t he?’ she said to me. ‘He must have trained at the same place as you. I’ll be boring and have a gin and tonic, please.’

  ‘And for me, please,’ I said.

  He vanished.

  ‘I confess I’ve not taken Goddard’s disappearance all that seriously up to now,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘He’s a sweet man, but prone to a certain . . . absence. I genuinely had imagined him wandering the streets in his dressing gown trying to fathom out some abstruse problem, completely unaware of the passing of time or the consternation he might be causing. But now people are dying.’

  ‘One person, certainly,’ I said. ‘And not of natural causes.’

  ‘There’s more than one malefactor at work here, isn’t there? Occam’s Razor be blowed.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m starting to think so. I agree with your earlier thought now – I make it a minimum of three.’

  ‘One to take the strongbox,’ she said. ‘That’ll be Kusnetsov. One to take Dr Goddard—’

  ‘And stash him away somewhere,’ I interrupted.

  ‘True,’ she said. ‘That might take two. But we’ll say it’s one for now. Then there’s one to steal the strongbox from Kusnetsov and garrotte him.’

  ‘Actually, that might make it four – one to steal, one to kill.’

  ‘Four? Where are all these people coming from?’

  ‘If we’re lucky, they’ll all kill each other,’ I said. ‘The last one standing will have the strongbox and will lead us to Dr Goddard.’

  ‘You suggested that as a method of detection once before. I’m not sure “last man standing” is an entirely ethical way of going about things. It would also be slightly more interesting to know who they all are before they kill each other.’

  ‘I presume you’re thinking along the same lines as I am,’ I said. ‘Everyone here is a spy.’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ she said. ‘It can’t possibly be a coincidence that representatives of most of the world’s more powerful nations just happen to be at the same hotel as a British scientist with a box full of secrets.’

  ‘Most?’ I said.

  ‘Indeed,’ she said. ‘We’re short at least one German.’

  ‘Ah, of course,’ I said. ‘And an Italian.’

  ‘It’s still well beyond a coincidence, even without those two.’

  Somehow our drinks had arrived, along with a plate of canapés.

  ‘Did you . . . ?’ I asked.

  ‘Not a glimpse. I told you – waiters have magical powers.’

  I looked up to see Mr Takahashi hovering in the doorway. I wondered how much he had overheard.

  Lady Hardcastle beckoned him in. ‘Mr Takahashi, isn’t it?’ she said genially. ‘We haven’t been introduced but if we can take a holiday then formality can take one, too. Would you care to join us?’

  He bowed deeply. ‘Good evening,’ he said in almost unaccented English. ‘I do not wish to intrude.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ she said. ‘I am Emily Hardcastle, this is Florence Armstrong, and this chair is vacant. Have a drink with us.’

  He came in and sat stiffly on the indicated chair.

  ‘Have I heard correctly?’ he asked. ‘Have the staff been calling you “Lady” Hardcastle?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said. ‘My late husband was Sir Roderick Hardcastle. You’re familiar with the English honours system?’

  ‘I studied at Oxford,’ he said. ‘I met many titled Englishmen and the “system”, as you term it, is no less complex than in my own country.’

  ‘Of course – our feudal pasts cast long shadows. You returned to Japan after your studies?’

  ‘I did. I spent some years in the Imperial Army, and then put my logistical knowledge to work on my country’s railway system. But in the end my skills proved to be more diplomatic than military. I have been serving at the Japanese embassy in London for nearly five years now. Have you visited the Japan–Britain Exhibition? It is proving very popular.’

  ‘We just missed it,’ she said. ‘We were last in London in April. We saw the posters.’

  ‘It is running until the end of October,’ he said. ‘You should visit. My department was heavily involved. Do you have family in London?’

  ‘I do,’ she said. ‘I managed to escape, but my brother and his wife are still there.’

  He frowned. ‘Escape? You find it unpleasant there?’

  ‘Heavens no,’ she said. ‘But I do find life in the countryside much more convivial. Away from the hurly-burly.’

  I could see Mr Takahashi mulling the term ‘hurly-burly’ and thought it particularly mischievous of Lady Hardcastle to try to get a Japanese man to say it. He was a step ahead of her, though.

  ‘It is a chaotic and busy place,’ he said. ‘Tokyo is much the same. I, too, prefer my family’s estates in the hills. It is tranquil there.’

  Lady Hardcastle and I sipped our drinks in silence for a few moments.

  ‘Are you alarmed by the events in the hotel?’ he asked.

  ‘Events?’ she said. ‘Oh, the fuss with Dr Goddard’s room. It’s a trifle, I’m sure. Just a chambermaid making a fuss over nothing.’

  He looked at her curiously. ‘I hope it is nothing serious. I like Dr Goddard. A very interesting man. He is working on a new railway locomotive design, you know.’

  ‘Is he, indeed?’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  The dining room waiter appeared at the door and announced that dinner would be served in ten minutes. We began gathering ourselves for the journey next door. Mr Takahashi never did manage to get his drink.

  We hadn’t made the five yards along the corridor to the dining room before we were waylaid by the porter.

  ‘Beggin’ your pardon, m’lady, Miss Armstrong,’ he said. ‘Mr Nightengale sends his compliments and asks if you would be good enough to come to reception. Two gentlemen have arrived and are asking for you and Mr Hillier. They say you’ll know what it’s about.’

  ‘Two gentlemen?’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘How splendid. Come along, Armstrong, we mustn’t keep two gentlemen waiting.’

  We followed the porter back to reception where there were, indeed, two grey-suited men waiting by the front desk. They wore near-identical grey Homburg hats, near-identical waxed moustaches, and carried near-identical black leather gloves in their hands. Matching Balliol College medallions hung from near-identical Albert chains on their waistcoats and I was sure that there would be matching gold hunters at the other ends of the chains, ticking in unison and telling precisely the same time. I wondered if there was a factory somewhere stamping out Special Branch officers.

  I guessed from the slight distortion of their jackets beneath the shoulders that they were carrying pistols in some sort of concealed holster, and that the one nearer the door – with his gun in his right armpit – was left-handed.

  Over the years, Lady Hardcastle and I had developed a complex language of phrases, signs, and signals to communicate our observations and intentions in situations where being overheard and understood might be disadvantageous.

  I discreetly tapped the back of her hand and said, ‘I forgot to mention that the butcher sent word that he can get us some lamb shoulder if you fancy it.’

  ‘Thank you, dear,’ she said. ‘I was hoping he might have one left.’

  She had already spotted the potential weapons, it seemed, and was well aware of the left-hander.

  ‘Ah, Lady Hardcastle,’ said Mr Nightengale. ‘These are Messrs Perch and Tench. You’re expecting them, I understand.’

  ‘We are,’ she said. She looked towards the left-handed man. ‘Aunt Agatha says that storks are remarkable birds,’ she said.

  He looked uncomfortable. ‘Must we?’

  ‘If you don’t want Armstrong to drop you where you stand and beat your colleague insensible with your gun, yes.’

  He sighed. ‘Grandmother says they only land in bushes.’

  I suppressed a smile.

  ‘Satisfied?’ said the man’s right-handed companion.

  ‘Oh, you have no idea, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle, making no attempt to hide her own broad smile.

  ‘It’s as well to make certain that we are who we say we are,’ said Right-Hander. ‘You’ve been fooled before.’

  ‘More than once,’ she said. ‘And I’m sure I shall be again. But for now I’m happy that you really are emissaries of my darling brother.’

  Mr Hillier, meanwhile, had arrived.

  ‘Ah, Mr Hillier,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘These two gentlemen are Stickleback and Minnow of . . . actually I was going to say “of the Foreign Office”, but they look awfully like Special Branch to me. My brother has kindly sent them to collect the package from room seven.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Mr Hillier. He frowned. ‘Stickleback and Minnow?’

  ‘Code names,’ said Lady Hardcastle, tapping the side of her nose. ‘It’s all very hugger-mugger down at Special Branch.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Hillier. ‘I see. Well, there’s a goods lift at the rear of the hotel. Do you have a vehicle, Mr . . . er . . . Mr Stickleback?’

  ‘No,’ said Left-Hander. ‘We thought it would be all right to carry the “package” to the railway station on a handcart. We can pretend he’s drunk. Of course we have a vehicle.’

  Mr Hillier was plainly not used to dealing with men like these. ‘Then perhaps you would care to bring it to the tradesman’s entrance – that way we can at least maintain some semblance of discretion.’

  ‘Mr Bream will see to it,’ said Right-Hander. ‘Off you go, Bream.’

  ‘I thought I was Tench,’ said Left-Hander.

  Right-Hander sighed. ‘Just get’ – he rolled his eyes and shook his head – ‘just get . . . “Pike” to move the bloody wagon,’ he said. ‘And bring in the bag.’

  Left-Hander stalked sullenly out through the front door.

  Right-Hander regarded Lady Hardcastle appraisingly. ‘Mr Featherstonhaugh assured us that you were experienced in these matters,’ he said. ‘Quite the agent in your day, as he told it.’

  ‘We had our moments, didn’t we, Armstrong?’

  ‘One or two,’ I said.

  ‘You don’t really look the part, either of you.’

  ‘Appearances can be deceptive, dear,’ she said. ‘Which is convenient when one thinks of it. We’d not have got far with “Look at me, I’m a spy” embroidered on my hat ribbon and “Agent of the Crown” tattooed on Armstrong’s forearm, now, would we?’

  ‘I do have “Cymru am byth” tattooed on my thigh, though,’ I said. ‘Memento of a drunken night in Budapest.’

  ‘He also warned us that you might not take things quite as seriously as they warrant,’ he said.

  ‘My big brother has always had the measure of me,’ she said. ‘But I tend to view it entirely round the other way – I rather think that everyone else takes things much more seriously than they warrant.’

  ‘You may be right,’ he said with a trace of a smile. ‘Ah, here comes Gudgeon with his bag. All set, Gudgeon?’

  ‘Yes . . . Trout,’ said the returning Special Branch man.

  ‘Coarse fish, Gudgeon, coarse fish. Keep up,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Trout are game fish. You could have gone for Carp. Or Dace, perhaps.’

  This earned her a glare, but no rebuke. As the junior man, Left-Hander was wary of overstepping the mark with Lady Hardcastle, whom he obviously knew to be the boss’s sister.

  ‘Would you care to accompany us?’ asked Right-Hander. ‘I’m sure Mr . . . ?’

  ‘Hillier,’ said the hotel manager.

  ‘Quite so. I’m sure Mr Hillier would prefer to oversee things. One can’t imagine it’s a hotelier’s dream to have strangers tramping about the place removing packages and scuffing the paintwork.’

  ‘You’re certainly not going to “tramp about” my hotel, no,’ said Mr Hillier.

  ‘Then, come. Lead the way, sir.’

  Mr Hillier set off towards the stairs with the two Special Branch men close behind. Lady Hardcastle and I followed.

  ‘By all means come along, too, Lady H,’ said Right-Hander over his shoulder. ‘The more the merrier. We can make a party of it.’

  We waited in the corridor while the two Special Branch men went into Mr Kusnetsov’s room. Left-Hander went over to the far side of the bed while his colleague examined the rest of the room with a calm efficiency that spoke of years of detective experience.

  Several minutes passed and Left-Hander was still struggling on the far side of the bed. He looked up when Right-Hander coughed.

  ‘What?’ said the left-handed man testily.

  ‘Haven’t you got him wrapped up yet? To be honest, old chap, I thought you’d have made much more progress by now. What have you been doing?’

  ‘Instead of swanking about like the big I am and trying to impress the ladies, old chap, you could come in and give me a bloody hand. They sent two of us for a reason, you know.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Right-Hander with a sigh. He had been leaning against the door frame since completing his search and now he lazily pushed himself upright, crossed the room and crouched down beside Kusnetsov’s body.

  ‘Have you been through his pockets?’ he said.

  ‘Of course I bloody well have. They’re empty.’

  Right-Hander turned back to the doorway. ‘Have you been through his pockets?’ he asked me.

  ‘Of course she has,’ said Lady Hardcastle with a smile. ‘I thought we’d established that we’re not amateurs.’

  ‘And . . . ?’ he asked.

  ‘They were empty then, too,’ I said. ‘Whoever killed him isn’t an amateur, either.’

  We watched the two Special Branch men struggle to get Kusnetsov’s body into the large canvas bag they’d brought with them.

  ‘Perhaps if you opened up the bag completely and then dragged him out into the middle of the room,’ suggested Lady Hardcastle, ‘you might be able to roll him on to the canvas and then strap it up around him. You’ll never get anywhere trying to stuff him into it like that.’

  ‘You see, Tench?’ said Right-Hander. ‘You’re so useless you’re being out-thought by a woman.’

  ‘I think you meant to say mere woman, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘If you’re going to bully the man, you ought to do a thorough job. Don’t spare my feelings.’

  This time it was Right-Hander who glared at her while Left-Hander smirked. Nevertheless, they took her advice and soon had the large Russian securely strapped into a canvas bag for easy transport. It was still obvious to anyone who cared to look closely that the heavyweight bag held a heavyweight corpse, but it was slightly more discreet than a coffin.

  They picked up the bag by the leather handles at each end, with Left-Hander taking the heavier head and torso. He led the way past us and off in the direction of the goods lift.

  ‘Cheerio then, ladies,’ said Right-Hander as he passed. ‘Mr Hillier.’ He inclined his head slightly towards the hotel manager. ‘We’ll leave you to tidy up.’

  And with that they were gone. It was time for a more thorough search of the room.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘What happens now?’ asked Mr Hillier. ‘Are we in the clear?’

  ‘In the clear, Mr Hillier?’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘Well, I mean to say, now that those government fellows have the body, are our legal obligations discharged? Do we just carry on as though nothing has happened?’

  ‘You’re free to carry on entirely as you please, Mr Hillier,’ she said. ‘For my part I feel obliged to find out what’s happened to Dr Goddard – there’s every chance that he needs help. If I can also find out who was responsible for strangling Mr Kusnetsov, I’ll count my week well spent, especially if the same miscreant is responsible.’

  ‘But surely Special Branch is taking care of all that now,’ persisted Mr Hillier.

  ‘I’m certain my brother meant well, but if those two foppish fools are the best he can muster, I rather think we oughtn’t to let things go just yet.’

  ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Well, I can’t really stand in your way, but I do need to get this room tidied and cleaned. The longer it stays in this state, the greater the number of people who might see it, and the more rumours will spread.’

  ‘If you’ll allow Armstrong and me an hour for a thorough search we can make sure that no evidence has been overlooked and then you can make it appear as though nothing went on here.’

  He looked doubtful. ‘I’d really prefer to get the place squared away as soon as possible,’ he said.

  ‘And I’d really prefer to have the chance to spend a quiet week by the seaside,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘But one doesn’t always get one’s preferences. We’ll be swift and thorough, then the room is all yours. A pleasing side effect of our search is that we’ll tidy as we go, so we’ll be saving your staff quite some time and effort.’

  While he contemplated this latest news, I contemplated the fact that I would be the one doing the tidying, Lady Hardcastle being more inclined towards chaos and disorder than tidiness. His deliberations didn’t delay us for long.

  ‘Very well,’ he said at length. ‘Please use your master key to lock up after yourselves and let Nightengale know when you’ve finished.’

  I smiled apologetically and indicated the damaged door frame. ‘We’ll pull the door to,’ I said. ‘It’s the best we can do.’

  He shook his head and walked off.