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may have been so encountered when beginning to make his way to it – in which case he may have been unnerved by his own bloody deed, and fled without seeking out his booty.’
    ‘Surely, Sir John, it is improbable that the intending thief would make a merely preliminary foray across the moat and to that window simply to peer into a crowded room?’
    ‘It’s a good point.’ Appleby was coming to have a considerable respect for Miss Minnychip’s intelligence. Ringwood, indeed, would have spotted this difficulty at once. But Ringwood, after all, was a professional. ‘I suppose it conceivable,’ Appleby went on, ‘that the lurker’s first intention was to make his way into the library while everybody was at dinner, and to stay doggo just outside until then.’ Appleby thought for a moment. ‘By the way,’ he then said, ‘just where do you keep what I’m sure must be called the Minnychip Collection in your own house? Or would you rather not divulge that even to a respectable retired policeman?’
    ‘Sir John, you persist in making fun of me. It is, I suppose, a spinster’s destiny. But at least I remain alert to sign or sound of it. The hearing ear, and the seeing eye, the Lord hath made even both of them. I try to use them as I may.’
    ‘Now it is you who are making fun of me, Miss Minnychip. But mayn’t I have an answer? It’s a question, after all, that Ringwood is bound to put to you if you insist on his providing you with a guardian bobby or two.’
    ‘If you must know,’ Miss Minnychip said, ‘I keep my father’s coins under my bed.’
    ‘An excellent place.’ Appleby appeared struck by something. ‘I wonder,’ he said, ‘whether Lord Osprey too did precisely that?’
     

8
    Having returned indoors with Miss Minnychip, and thanked her for her assistance, Appleby was making his way back to the Music Saloon when he became aware of the measured approach of Bagot, the late Lord Osprey’s butler. Bagot had the appearance of one who would regard all haste as unseemly, so that Appleby wondered what sort of speed he had contrived to make when sent to investigate the mystery of that mysterious intruder on the previous evening. And now Bagot halted before him.
    ‘Sir John,’ he then asked with some solemnity, ‘would it be convenient to have a word with you?’
    ‘Of course. Fire away.’
    If Bagot’s eyebrows failed faintly to elevate themselves before this brusquerie it was evident that some effort had been required to ensure that they stayed put.
    ‘First, then, I am instructed by her ladyship to ask you whether Mr Ringwood will take luncheon.’
    ‘I suppose so, Mr Bagot. Most people have something at that time of day.’
    ‘You do not quite understand me, sir.’
    ‘Of course I do. But Lady Osprey can’t be very clear about my relationship with Mr Ringwood. It is not for me to advise her on whether or not to ask the Detective-Inspector to lunch. I can, however, tell you at once what his answer will be should you be sent to him direct. He is at Clusters in an official capacity which precludes him from anything of the kind. You yourself must understand that.’
    ‘The thought has certainly been in my mind, Sir John.’
    ‘Then that’s that. But would it be stretching a point too far to propose that you and I have a further short talk?’
    ‘Most willingly, Sir John. May I suggest that we step into my pantry? It affords all proper privacy. His late lordship occasionally dropped in on me there for a brief chat. But nobody else comes near it. Not, so far, even the Detective-Inspector.’
    ‘Capital. That will suit most admirably.’
    So they made their way to Bagot’s secluded citadel. It contained a small desk, an enormous safe, a sink, and a couple of chairs. On a shelf near a low radiator, uncorked, stood several bottles of burgundy. Appleby recalled that all good butlers believe that burgundy must breathe.
    ‘Do sit down,’ Bagot said briskly.
    So Appleby sat down. Bagot, who