‘Thank you.’ Lady Hardcastle rose from her seat. ‘Come along, Flo, let’s not keep him waiting. Excuse us, please, ladies, but duty calls. We’ll be back this way if we can.’

  We followed the porter back to reception and the waiting Mr Hillier.

  ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,’ said Mr Hillier as we approached the reception desk. ‘I do like to be at home to see the boys safely to bed.’

  ‘Please don’t worry, Mr Hillier – your devotion to your family does you credit. It is we who should be apologizing to you for dragging you away from your home at this late hour. Your day’s work ought to be done by now.’

  ‘This is an important matter,’ he said. ‘It needs to be settled as soon as possible.’

  ‘Quite so,’ she agreed. ‘Quite so. We do have a slight problem, though. When I first came to look for you, all the hotel guests were safely in the dining room and I foresaw no difficulty in searching Herr Schneider’s room in his absence. It would be an invasion of privacy, to be sure, but we could have worried about that afterwards. Now, though, they’ve scattered to the four winds. It could well be that Schneider is in his room and might object to a search. Are you prepared to back me if he gets uppity?’

  ‘He’ll most certainly get uppity,’ said Mr Hillier.

  ‘Yes, we know full well what he’s like – we’ve met him. But will you stand firm?’

  ‘I’m in charge of the hotel, and we reserve the right to enter guests’ rooms at any time. I’ll not take part in any violence, mind you.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Armstrong will take care of the violence – it’s one of her many talents.’

  I smiled and nodded reassuringly, but that seemed to make him even more uneasy.

  ‘Come along, then,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Let us tarry no more. I have a feeling we’ll get the strongbox this time.’

  We mounted the stairs to our floor and hastened to the end of the corridor. At the bathroom and lavatory we turned along another corridor, empty but for two plain doors, presumably store cupboards. At the rear of the hotel was another corridor. From our conversation with the night staff we knew that the two doors were to the rooms of Schneider and Takahashi.

  Mr Hillier knocked smartly on the first of them.

  There was no answer.

  He knocked again.

  He reached into his pocket for his master key, but I stayed his hand.

  ‘Would you mind standing back, please, sir?’ I said.

  He didn’t look delighted at the idea, but he nevertheless stood aside. I reached out for the door handle and turned it. With a gentle push, I established that the door was unlocked. I released the handle and pushed firmly on the door, opening it quickly inwards. I was braced in case anyone sprang out at us, but nothing happened.

  The room faced east, away from the dim evening sun. The heavy curtains had been drawn, making the room gloomier still. I reached in and found the electric light switch. The lamp on the wall came to life immediately, illuminating an all-too-familiar scene.

  The room was in disarray. It smelled rather pleasant, it has to be noted, but it looked an absolute mess.

  This time, though, it was not the mess of a systematic search for hidden secrets, but the aftermath of a violent struggle. A fashionable standard lamp lay on its side, its glass shade smashed. Bottles and jars – of which Schneider possessed a surprising number – had been swept from the washstand on to the floor. Some of them had spilled their contents, leaving perfumed, oleaginous smears on the floor where the combatants had slipped during the fight.

  I took a step into the room and looked around.

  ‘Are you squeamish, Mr Hillier?’ I said calmly.

  ‘Am I what?’ He leaned in and looked round.

  ‘Squeamish, sir. Are you disturbed by the sight of blood?’

  ‘The sight of—’ He fainted. Dead away. There was a soft thud as his head hit the luxuriant carpet that ran down the centre of the corridor.

  ‘That answers that, then,’ I said.

  Lady Hardcastle checked that he was breathing and laid him on his side before joining me.

  ‘I say,’ she said. ‘That’s rather a mess, isn’t it?’

  Ernst Schneider, still in his dinner suit, lay motionless in a pool of his own blood. There were at least two stab wounds to his chest, but his assailant had made sure to finish the job by slitting his throat. From the surprisingly small size of the pool and the absence of the tell-tale spray of blood that accompanies a severed artery, I guessed that the coup de grâce was an unnecessary flourish – he had already been well on the way to being dead of his wounds before then.

  ‘What do you see?’ she asked.

  I took in the state of the room. ‘A fight, obviously. And not a quick one – the extent of the damage to the room suggests that they were at it for a minute or more.’

  ‘Evenly matched, then?’

  ‘In skill, if not size,’ I said. ‘You see the face cream on the floor? A large foot and a smaller foot.’ I bent to examine Schneider’s shoes. ‘A dapper little man with dainty little feet. So the larger shoe prints are those of his attacker.’

  ‘Martin?’

  ‘He’s the right sort of size. And sailors do tend to opt for the knife in a close fight. Sharp ones – look at how clean that cut is.’

  ‘Sailors?’

  ‘He’s a “marine engineer”, but did you see the size of his hands? And the coarseness of the skin? He’s spent time at sea.’

  ‘Actually, yes – I agree,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose it’s worth even looking under the bed for the strongbox.’

  ‘I doubt it, but we’d look a right couple of chumps if we didn’t bother and it turned out to be there all along.’

  I knelt on the floor and looked under the bed. There were scratches on the polished floorboards but nothing there that might have caused them. Lady Hardcastle, meanwhile, had taken a look in – and on top of – the wardrobe.

  ‘If it were ever here,’ she said, ‘it’s gone now. Let’s revive Hillier and get down to the telephone. I need to speak to Harry. Do you have any smelling salts?’

  I frowned. ‘Why on earth . . . ?’

  ‘It’s the sort of thing lady’s maids carry. You’re always so well prepared for every eventuality, I thought you might have some.’

  ‘I don’t,’ I said. ‘But I know a man who might. There are pills, potions, and patent nostrums of all sorts among the face creams and hair oils. I’ll bet the late Herr Schneider has some.’

  I was right, and a quick whiff brought Mr Hillier splutteringly to his senses. He sat up.

  ‘Is he . . . ?’

  ‘Dead? Yes,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘And if the strongbox were ever here, it’s long gone now.’

  ‘Who would . . . ?’

  ‘We have an idea, but we need advice from my brother before we proceed. This is getting out of hand.’

  ‘Your brother . . . ?’

  ‘Harry Featherstonhaugh. Of the Foreign Office. You spoke to him yesterday.’

  ‘Ah, yes. We should telephone him.’

  ‘We should, indeed. Can you stand?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Splendid. You lock the room with your master key and I’ll make the call from your office.’

  ‘I’ll . . . er . . . I’ll need to be with you,’ he said. ‘I lock the office door at night.’

  She held up her own copy of the master key.

  ‘I think we’ll be all right,’ she said, and we set off downstairs together.

  Once we were safely inside Mr Hillier’s office with the door firmly shut, Lady Hardcastle began rummaging in her handbag for her address book.

  ‘I ought to start committing people’s telephone numbers to memory,’ she muttered. ‘It’s not as though they’re terribly complicated.’

  ‘I thought you had his new office number on that telegram he sent you yesterday,’ I said.

  ‘I’m always impressed by my brother’s dedication to his work,’ she said, still rummaging, ‘but I doubt that even he would still be in the office at’ – she looked at her wristwatch – ‘nine in the evening. I’m going to call him at home.’

  ‘He’ll be delighted by that, I’m sure.’

  ‘It’s his own fault. If he’s going to “What ho, sis” me and then sternly instruct me not to get involved, he ought to expect telephone calls at nine o’clock on a Wednesday evening informing him of dead foreign visitors and still-missing strongboxes. We’re perfectly capable of handling all this on our own, but he insisted we leave it to him. Ah, here we are.’

  She picked up the telephone earpiece and gave the number to the operator. There was nothing to do then but wait for her to call back when the trunk call was put through.

  ‘Are we sticking with the idea of there being two burglars?’ I asked.

  ‘A thief and a killer?’ she said. ‘We can’t rule it out, but it’s less clear-cut this time. I’m definitely inclined towards the “two killers” hypothesis now, though. A garrotte and a knife seem like the weapons of different men.’

  ‘Unless one killing was planned and the other improvised,’ I said. ‘What if Martin planned to kill Kusnetsov and was ready with his garrotte, but had to fight for his life against Schneider using the first thing he could think of: his trusty knife?’

  ‘Except that Martin was out all day yesterday at Cheddar Gorge. He told us when we met him in the salon.’

  ‘He did, indeed. He’s unlikely to be lying – it’s too easy an alibi to break. A decent spy could do better than that.’

  ‘This isn’t at all the holiday I’d hoped for,’ she sighed. ‘It’s not even sunny. I mean to say—’

  Her grumpy musings were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.

  ‘That was quick,’ I said.

  She picked up the earpiece and held it so that we could both hear. The difference in our heights meant that she had to sit on the edge of Mr Hillier’s desk to try to get our heads at a more or less equal level.

  ‘Hardcastle here,’ she said.

  ‘Connecting your trunk call with Mr Featherston-huff . . . Mr Feather—’ The operator was interrupted by a voice in the background which we were unable to hear clearly but which seemed to be imparting vital information. ‘Fanshaw?’ she said with no small amount of incredulity. ‘But it’s spelt with feathers . . . Well I never. You live and learn. Please hold the line, caller.’

  Lady Hardcastle rolled her eyes but said nothing.

  ‘Is that you, Emily?’ said a familiar female voice.

  ‘Lavinia, darling,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘It is, indeed, I. In the flesh. Or lurking inexplicably in the electronic mysteries of telephonic whatnots, anyway. How are you?’

  ‘Quite well, thank you. What a delightful surprise to hear from you. At least I hope so. Is everything all right? I thought you said you were holidaying in Weston-super-Mare.’

  ‘We are, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Exactly as planned. There’s nothing to worry about. I take it Harry hasn’t said anything of current developments in the West Country.’

  ‘I’ve not seen him this past week. He’s away on important Foreign Office business.’

  ‘He’s abroad, then?’ asked Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘I’ve no idea. He had his valet pack him a bag, said, “Cheerio, Jake. I’ll be back by the weekend”, and then toddled off.’

  Thanks to a chain of lavatorial schoolgirl logic that shortened Lady Lavinia’s name to ‘Lav’, whence it became ‘Jakes’ and then ‘Jake’, few of her friends had called her anything but Jake since she had been a girl.

  ‘Does he do that a lot?’ asked Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘It’s a recent development since he was attached to the new department, but yes, he does now. He seems to be having great fun so I never mind. It’s not as though I’ve not got plenty to do without him.’

  ‘New department, eh?’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘He’s a dark horse. So you’ve no idea where he is?’

  ‘None at all, dear. Is it frightfully urgent?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘But then again, no. I have a number where he might be reached – I’ll try that.’

  ‘Right you are, dear,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘Do be careful, won’t you?’

  ‘I’m renowned for my cautiousness, have no fear.’

  ‘Hmm. That’s not how Harry tells it, but you have darling Flo to look after you. Give her my love, won’t you.’

  ‘She’s here,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘Hello, your ladyship,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry – I won’t let her come to any harm.’

  ‘See that you don’t,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘Aunts are so important.’

  ‘I say,’ exclaimed Lady Hardcastle. ‘Really? How wonderful. When?’

  ‘January, the doctor says.’ Even on the crackly telephone line I could hear the smile in her voice.

  ‘Well, congratulations to you. You know I shall spoil it horribly, don’t you?’

  ‘We expect nothing less. Harry also anticipates you being a thoroughly bad influence on the infant Featherstonhaugh and I, for one, wholeheartedly approve.’

  ‘I shall make it my mission to lead the little kipper astray,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘This really is very wonderful indeed. But I must tarry no longer. I have information for your errant husband and I really do need to try to track him down. Do look after yourself. Yourselves, I should say.’

  ‘Of course, dear,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘If I hear from Harry, I’ll tell him you called.’

  ‘Thank you. Goodnight.’

  She put the earpiece back on its hook.

  ‘Well I never,’ she said, grinning. ‘Aunt Emily, eh? Fancy that.’

  ‘You’ll make a marvellous aunt,’ I said. ‘But we need to get someone to see to our dead body before Mr Hillier has another fit of the vapours and calls the police. I really don’t relish the thought of having to deal with the rozzers, even if the alternative means pretending to be polite to the Fish Brothers again.’

  ‘Quite right, too. There’s nothing for it but to try that other number.’

  More rummaging followed, culminating in the retrieval of the crumpled telegram. She was about to pick up the earpiece again to order the trunk call, but as she reached out, the telephone rang. She gave me a puzzled look and answered it.

  ‘Steep Holm View Hotel. Good evening.’

  ‘Sis?’ said another familiar voice, this time male.

  ‘Harry, dear. I was just about to try to telephone you. We tried you at home but you’re not.’

  ‘Not what, old thing?’

  ‘Not at home,’ she said. ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘On not being at home?’

  ‘On the baby,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘We spoke to Lavinia.’

  ‘Oh, that. Thank you. Good thing I decided to check on you, then.’

  ‘Quite the coincidence,’ she said. ‘We’ve good news. And bad news. But mostly bad news.’

  ‘Go on,’ he said.

  ‘We tracked the strongbox from Kusnetsov’s room to that of Ernst Schneider. An Austrian chap. He’s . . . actually, I’m not sure what he is. He has a very common name, though. As does everyone else in the hotel, now I come to think about it. Commonplace, nondescript names. Of the sort designed to attract no attention. One might almost think they were noms de guerre. The sort of names spies might use while they were working abroad.’

  Harry was not to be distracted by her musings. ‘So where is it now, then, this strongbox I explicitly and unambiguously told you not to pursue?’

  ‘That’s the first part of the bad news,’ she said. ‘It has been stolen. Again.’

  ‘I see. And the second part of the bad news?’

  ‘Schneider is dead.’

  ‘Not of natural causes, I presume.’

  ‘Stabbed several times in the chest before having his throat cut,’ she confirmed. ‘Not a very tidy job, but effective.’

  ‘Has Hillier called the police?’

  ‘No. He’s very much out of his depth, the poor lamb. Once he’d come round, we set him to work locking up. He seemed very much inclined to let us take charge.’

  ‘Come round? Was he attacked?’

  ‘No, dear, he fainted when he saw the blood on the floor.’

  Harry laughed. ‘One would have thought a hotel manager saw worse than that during the course of an average year. All right, I’ll get some men to deal with it. We’ll take care of the reporting.’

  ‘Your fishy friends?’ she asked.

  ‘The very same. You irritated and impressed them in equal measure,’ he said. ‘But don’t poke them too much. I’ve got them on a reasonably tight leash, but they can be inclined to bite if they’re teased.’

  ‘We can handle them,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry about us.’

  ‘Ah, Strongarm, good evening,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realize you were there. I’m sure you can. But I might need them, so don’t damage them, please.’

  ‘Of course not, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘But I’m still goggling at the idea of you keeping fish on a leash. Didn’t they teach you anything about mixing your metaphors at that expensive school you went to?’

  ‘Didn’t that string of equally expensive governesses teach you anything about doing as you’re told?’ he replied. ‘Now for the love of all things holy will you please – and I can’t emphasize the importance of this enough – stop meddling.’

  ‘Will you tell us what’s going on?’

  ‘There’s nothing going on. Now stop meddling in it.’

  ‘As you wish, dear,’ she said. ‘We shall retire to the salon for a reviving brandy while we await your Special Branch minions.’

  ‘What makes you think they’re from Special Branch? I never said anything about Special Branch.’

  ‘It couldn’t have been more obvious if they’d had it tattooed on their foreheads,’ she said. ‘I take it they’ll clean up after themselves? I don’t think Hillier’s staff should have to mop up puddles of blood.’

  ‘I’ll send a specialist with them,’ said Harry. ‘Keep out of the way.’

  ‘Righto, dear. We’ll speak again soon, I have no doubt.’