I harrumphed. ‘We’ve managed to miss all of them,’ I said. ‘When’s the tide going to be in at a time when I might see it?’

  ‘Well, you could see it this evening if we come out again before dinner. But if you want something more in the daytime’– she scanned the sheet – ‘there are high tides at sixteen minutes past nine on Saturday morning and three minutes past ten on Sunday morning. There’s still time to see the sea.’

  We walked down past the Punch and Judy man, past a troupe of Pierrots trying to drum up business for their show on the end of the pier, and on to the Grand Atlantic Hotel, where we turned round and started to make our way back. The drop in the wind had prompted more holidaymakers out on to the seafront today and the atmosphere was decidedly jolly.

  ‘How did your subconscious get on last night?’ I asked.

  ‘There was something about a Norwegian Elkhound called Margaritte who was running a theatrical company and wanted me to design the costumes for a canine production of a musical called Piff! Paff! Pouf!’ she said. ‘They’ve no thumbs, you see. They can’t hold a pencil. And then I had to sit an examination on organic chemistry for which I hadn’t prepared. I was completely unclothed, but for some reason that didn’t trouble me nearly as much as my inability to remember the melting and boiling points of any of the compounds. Or even their names. It was most disturbing.’

  ‘I meant about the disappearance of Dr Goddard,’ I said. ‘But I’m sure Dr Freud would have a field day with your naked chemistry.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course. I’m so sorry. Nothing yet. How about you?’

  ‘No. I’m as baffled as ever.’

  We were approaching the Punch and Judy man once more. He was between shows and the crowd had dispersed, all save for a tall man with his back to us, wearing a sailor’s coat and heavy boots. He had his cap in his hand, which revealed a head of tousled blond hair. He appeared to be deep in conversation with the puppeteer. I pointed him out.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ she said. ‘I told you there was no point in fussing about the fisherman. They’re ten a penny round here.’

  He was gone by the time we drew level with the red-and-white tent and we carried on without further incident. We were back at Steep Holm View in time for elevenses.

  Elevenses came and went without incident, as did lunch and tea. We amused ourselves with books and a few energetically aggressive card games, broken up by another stroll into town. I bought postcards for Edna and Miss Jones, and one for my twin sister, Gwenith, who lived in Woolwich with her husband, a staff sergeant in the Royal Artillery.

  We changed for dinner and were at the dining room door at ten past seven. Everyone else was already seated – it seemed they all preferred to dine early. Ernst Schneider sat alone in one of the far corners of the room, with Takahashi Kaito in the other. Jean Martin sat with his back to them at a table nearer the centre, forming a sullen triangle of well-dressed solitude. Having met them all, I wondered why they didn’t sit together – I thought they’d probably get along.

  The Wilsons were at the table nearest to Martin. Adelia Wilson saw us at the door and beckoned us in.

  ‘Good evening,’ she said with a warmth I hadn’t expected. ‘We were hoping to bump into you two. We did so enjoy having dinner with you last evening and we were wondering if you would join us again.’

  ‘How utterly charming of you to say so,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘We enjoyed ourselves, too, didn’t we?’

  ‘We did,’ I said. ‘Although you missed a treat by skipping out before the cheese board. They have a wonderful selection.’

  ‘You stayed for the cheese after all, then?’ said Adelia with a smile.

  ‘We had it delivered to our rooms,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘We can be quite decadent when the mood strikes.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it. But sit yourselves down – we were just wondering whether to order champagne again.’

  We sat and made ourselves comfortable. I was once again struck by the strength of Adelia’s perfume, but I knew I would become accustomed to it as the evening wore on.

  ‘Did you enjoy the champagne, then?’ I asked Eleanora.

  She looked up from her intense scrutiny of the menu. ‘I did, thank you, ma’am,’ she said.

  ‘I think I’ll take a leaf out of Lady Hardcastle’s book and insist that while we’re on holiday, formality can take a holiday, too. Please call me Flo – all my friends do.’

  The younger Wilson smiled. ‘Thank you, Flo,’ she said. ‘That would be an honour. My friends call me Ellie.’

  ‘I’ll still be calling you Eleanora, if you don’t mind,’ said Adelia.

  ‘That’s entirely appropriate,’ I said. ‘My mother and sister both call me Flossie. It’s nice to have a name for family only.’

  ‘Not Florence, then?’

  ‘Only Lady Hardcastle calls me Florence now that my grandmother has gone, and only sometimes.’

  ‘And yet you call her Lady Hardcastle,’ she said.

  I felt disinclined to try to explain this one but Lady Hardcastle came to my aid.

  ‘It’s something of a private joke between us,’ she said. ‘You know how we English are with our gentle mockery and not taking things seriously. It’s a way of keeping my feet on the ground.’

  ‘By reminding you of your title?’

  ‘Exactly that. We’re a complex folk. It’s not even my title, truth be told. I’m only Lady Hardcastle because my late husband was Sir Roderick – it’s a courtesy title, you see? I was plain old Mrs Hardcastle until he was knighted.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Eleanora, suddenly interested. ‘Is that why you’re not Lady Emily?’

  ‘It is. That’s reserved for ladies who are related to members of the peerage. And here’s a fun thing: if the title had been mine – if I were Dame Emily – Roddy wouldn’t have been given a courtesy title at all. I sometimes wonder if the inconsistencies are placed there as traps for the unwary. We can winkle out the spies and imposters in our midst by uncovering their ignorance of our peculiar naming conventions.’

  ‘For my part,’ said Adelia, ‘I sometimes wonder if we threw out the baby with the bath water when we cast off the yoke of monarchist oppression. “Lady Adelia” has a ring to it, don’t you think?’

  ‘I can think of some titles for you,’ muttered Eleanora under her breath.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Adelia sharply. ‘You really must stop mumbling. Especially when we have company.’

  I winked at Eleanora, who returned to her close study of the menu with a little smile.

  ‘Have you had a pleasant day?’ asked Lady Hardcastle, suppressing a smile of her own.

  ‘We have, thank you,’ said Adelia. ‘We took the train to Clevedon – a delightful little town. They have a pier there, too, you know.’

  ‘So I understand,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘Not so grand as the pier here, but rather more pretty, I felt. There was a steamer there but we couldn’t ascertain where it might take us.’

  ‘It might have just taken you for a trip into the Bristol Channel and back,’ I said. ‘Or it might have been the ferry to Wales – that operates from there.’

  ‘To Wales? Is there no train?’

  ‘There is now,’ I said. ‘But the tunnel was only opened some twenty-odd years ago. Before that it was the ferry or the long ride to Gloucester to cross the Severn there.’

  ‘It’s like going to another country.’

  ‘It is another country,’ I said.

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Adelia. ‘Now I know you’re teasing the witless foreigner.’

  ‘No, it’s true,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Flo is Welsh, and they’re very proud of their nation’s heritage. It might have been joined to England by political shenanigans since the thirteenth century—’

  ‘Since it was invaded by the English in 1283 and then annexed in 1284,’ I said.

  ‘Not that they bear us a grudge and have the dates seared into their collective memories, or anything. But it’s quite definitely another country.’

  ‘Well, I never,’ said Adelia. ‘Perhaps we should get on that steamer and visit another foreign land on our trip.’

  ‘You’ll not be disappointed,’ I said. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘I shall make enquiries of the hotel clerk,’ said Adelia. ‘And what about you two?’

  ‘What about us, dear?’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘How did you amuse yourselves today? Are you still looking into the . . . what was it you called it? The “goings-on” in the hotel?’

  ‘We still are.’

  ‘I have to say I’m most alarmed by the news that one of the hotel guests has been murdered. I know you Britishers pride yourselves on your sangfroid but no one seems to be taking this especially seriously. A stiff upper lip isn’t going to protect me and my niece from murderers. We’re no strangers to violence, it’s true, but Eleanora is really quite frightened, and I can’t say I blame her one bit. Will we be safe? Had he taken the strongbox?’

  ‘How did you—?’ began Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘Oh, come now,’ said Adelia. ‘We’ve been through this – we’re foreign but we’re not stupid. You came to our rooms and asked about Dr Goddard, then you asked about his strongbox. It doesn’t take the mind of a genius to figure out that both have gone missing.’

  ‘You’re right, of course. Yes, we believe Kusnetsov did have the strongbox.’

  ‘Did have?’

  ‘Yes, by the time we went to search his room and found him dead, the box – if it had ever been there – was long gone.’

  ‘So the thief was robbed,’ said Adelia. ‘Got any ideas?’

  ‘None at the moment,’ I said. ‘We had a couple of suspects in mind for the first robbery, but we were sure that Kusnetsov was the one whom Ellie heard scratching at the door. The words you heard were Russian, not English. His fingers slipped while he was picking the lock and he said “damn!” in Russian but it sounds like “back later” in English.’

  Adelia had flinched at the mild oath, but said nothing.

  ‘Oh my,’ said Eleanora. ‘How wonderfully clever of you.’

  ‘Who was your other suspect?’ asked Adelia.

  ‘Herr Schneider,’ I said. ‘He’d been seen lurking about the corridor, but it turned out not to be him at all.’

  ‘Did the robber kill Kusnetsov?’

  ‘We’ve been trying to puzzle that out, but we don’t think so,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘Are we safe?’ asked Eleanora.

  ‘From the killer?’ I said. ‘Of course you are. There’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Unless you have the strongbox,’ said Lady Hardcastle with a wink.

  ‘My Colt Vest Pocket pistol will see them off,’ said Adelia.

  ‘You use the Vest Pocket?’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I must say, I’m very fond of mine. Flo bought me a derringer to fit into a holster in a specially made hat, but it only holds two rounds and I’ve never found it to be terribly accurate.’

  ‘I’m a woman travelling alone with my young niece, but what does a titled English lady want with a pistol?’ asked Adelia.

  ‘These are dangerous times, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle with a wink. ‘A lady should always be able to look after herself, titled or not. Although I confess I’ve left them both at home – we’re on holiday.’

  ‘What about you . . . Flo? Are you armed?’

  ‘I favour the swift biff on the conk if things cut up rough,’ I said. ‘But if weapons are required I’m more of a blade sort of a girl.’

  ‘A biff on the what?’ said Adelia. ‘Ah, there you are, waiter. You’ve arrived just in time to spare my embarrassed confusion.’

  Kibble had indeed arrived and took our dinner orders, to be accompanied this time by two bottles of champagne.

  ‘I feel we ought to be matching the wine to each course like proper European snobs,’ said Adelia. ‘But when there’s champagne on offer . . .’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  The champagne had already arrived. Kibble poured. We drank a toast to happy vacations and jolly holidays. It was all set to be another pleasant dinner.

  And so it was. Our new American friends were charming company, and even when the conversation flagged I was able to amuse myself by looking round the room at our fellow guests. There was the French giant, Jean Martin, hunched uncomfortably over his dinner like an adult forced to eat at the nursery table. The Japanese diplomat, Takahashi Kaito, sat ramrod straight and ate with a delicate precision, each movement graceful and efficient. And then there was the disagreeable Austrian fop, Ernst Schneider – he even managed to eat soup in a condescendingly supercilious way. And as for that ludicrous lapel pin. Honestly it was more like a brooch with its rubies and emeralds and . . .

  ‘It was Schneider,’ I blurted before I could stop myself.

  Lady Hardcastle frowned. ‘What was, dear?’ she said.

  ‘I’m so sorry, it just hit me. In Kusnetsov’s room. That shard of glass you found. It’s from Schneider’s ridiculous pin. There’s a green stone missing. He was one of the ones in the room. Either he has the box or he killed Kusnetsov.’

  ‘I can’t look without drawing attention to us,’ she said. ‘But I’ll take your word for it. We’ll have to play it canny or we’ll blow the gaff. We need to get to his room before he knows we know, but this might be our chance to at least get the box back.’ She paused for a moment, contemplating her next move as she ate another morsel of the delicious Dover sole she had chosen for her fish course. ‘Would you mind awfully helping me, Miss Wilson?’

  Both the Misses Wilson looked up.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I meant you, Adelia,’ she said.

  ‘Happy to oblige,’ said Adelia. ‘What did you have in mind?’

  ‘I thought if we left together, as though to visit Mrs Jones, it might look less like we were up to something. It would give me the chance to see if Mr Hillier is still about without attracting undue attention.’

  ‘Visit Mrs Jones?’ asked Adelia.

  ‘Visit the ladies’ room,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘“Strain our taters”, as the vulgarians have it. I rather like that one, though, I must say.’

  ‘It happens that I do need to,’ said Adelia. ‘By all means, let’s go.’

  They went.

  ‘And we sit here,’ I said to Eleanora. ‘We chatter away without making anything of it, because we’d not think it out of the ordinary for our companions to nip off to attend to a call of nature.’

  ‘You have experience of this?’ she asked.

  ‘Of Lady Hardcastle getting up in the middle of dinner and going to the—’

  ‘No, silly,’ she said. ‘Of cloak-and-dagger stuff, like in adventure stories.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ I said. ‘No, not really. But I’ve read enough adventure stories to know how it’s done.’

  ‘I’d love to have adventures,’ she said, wistfully. ‘My life seems planned out for me before it’s even begun. Finish school, tour Europe with Aunt Adelia to “broaden my horizons”, find a suitable husband, tend house, have babies. And it has to be the right sort of man – marrying for love is for lesser folk. He’ll have to have serious political ambitions or be the heir to a substantial fortune to be considered as a prospective husband by my family. Preferably both.’

  ‘I’m sure adventures are overrated,’ I said. ‘There’s a lot to be said for a warm, comfortable home with enough to eat and someone to keep you company on the long winter evenings.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right. But I’d still like my life to amount to more than a full belly and a seat by the fire.’

  ‘What would you like to do?’ I asked. ‘If you didn’t have to please anyone else, what would you choose to do with your life?’

  She thought for a while. ‘I’d still need to eat,’ she said at length. ‘And I’d still need somewhere warm and safe to live. So I guess I’d have to earn a living for myself. Maybe I could write. Maybe I could make my own adventures on the page – live a life of danger and excitement through the characters in a book.’

  ‘Well, now,’ I said. ‘You didn’t say you could write. That sounds like a wonderful ambition.’

  ‘I don’t like to say it out loud. People don’t take it seriously. Painting and playing the piano – those are suitable pastimes for a young lady, they say. But writing fanciful stories? Folk just laugh.’

  ‘Folk are idiots,’ I said.

  She laughed.

  ‘You two seem to be having a jolly time without us,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘As I said yesterday: we don’t stop existing just because you’re not here.’

  ‘Quite so. Is Adelia not back?’

  ‘Not yet, no. What news of Mr Hillier?’

  ‘He’s not in his office, but the night porter has put the word out. He lives not far away with his wife and two sons so there’s a chance he might be willing to pop back for us. I’d still like to have him as a witness.’

  ‘It feels more proper,’ I said. ‘And he wants to get to the bottom of all this even more than we do. I’m sure he won’t be long.’

  She harrumphed.

  A few minutes later, Adelia Wilson returned and we tried our best to resume casual conversation as our dinner continued.

  Mr Hillier did not show himself before we finished, so the four of us retired to the salon. We were the only ones there – the gentlemen having all drifted off when their meals were done – so we reasoned that we wouldn’t be at all difficult to find once the hotel manager returned to work.

  Despite the seriousness of the coming task we were having such a pleasant time that we ordered a round of drinks to go with our coffee and petits fours. Eleanora declined the offer of cognac, saying that the champagne had been quite enough, but we other three were more than ready for our brandy. I was just about to tuck in to a particularly delicious-looking pastry when the porter arrived and bowed to Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘Mr Hillier’s compliments, my lady,’ he said. ‘He says he will meet you in reception at your convenience.’