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then I’ll get the ballad-maker to invent a ballad and print it and—”
    “Ellie, he’s not going to hang because I’m going to find out what really happened,” I told her severely.
    Masou made a mock bow and turned the rabbit on its spit. “My lady, you are all-wise,” he said. “Tell me, how will you do that?”
    I punched him on the arm (not hard). “First I want to get a good long look at Sir Gerald’s body,” I began. “I’ve heard that it’s being kept in St. Margaret’s Chapel.”
    “Ugh,” said Ellie. “Why?”
    “Because when I saw Sir Gerald’s body with the knife in it there wasn’t any blood,” I said very significantly.
    “So?” frowned Masou.
    “So, if I stabbed you, blood would come out, wouldn’t it?” I explained. “Probably quite a lot if I stabbed deep enough to kill you. But there wasn’t any blood around the wound and I remember my uncle, Dr. Cavendish, telling me once that the tides of your blood only stop when you die.”
    “Oh,” murmured Masou thoughtfully.
    “So I simply must look at Sir Gerald’s bodyagain. And there’s another reason, too.” I lowered my voice because it was a frightening idea even if it was a well-known fact. “If we look into his eyes we might even be able to see who the murderer really was!”
    “Why didn’t the doctor do it when he saw the body?” asked Ellie matter-of-factly, munching on one of the marchpane arms of Venus that Masou had produced from his sleeve.
    “Well, my uncle was upset,” I said. “And he drinks too much, ever since … you know.”
    They both nodded.
    “But I’m sure I’ve picked enough up from him to spot anything that might help,” I went on.
    Masou laughed. “So all we need to do is creep out to St. Margaret’s Chapel at dead of night—”
    “Yes, I was thinking
midnight
,” I put in. “Then we take a careful look at Sir Gerald’s body, shine a light in his eyes, and we’ll have the answer.”
    “Such simplicity that we must do it and nobody else has,” Masou said, grinning.
    I scowled at him. “Nobody else has because they all want it to be nice and simple. Lord Robert hasn’t got a lot of friends and he owes people money and it would be simple if it were he,” I explained.
    “Not for the people he owes money to,” Ellie pointed out.
    “What about Lord Worthy’s men, who will be guarding the chapel?” Masou asked quietly.
    I hadn’t thought about that. “You don’t have to come with me,” I told them. “I don’t want you to get into trouble. I can find St. Margaret’s Chapel on my own, you know.”
    “Oh, fie!” said Ellie. “I owe you one for not telling anybody that I cleaned up after Sir Gerald.” She made a face. “Not a penny did I get for it, and his sick smelled horrible.”
    “And I,” said Masou, “am a warrior and afraid of nothing—
and
I’m the best boy acrobat in Mr. Somers’s troupe. They will require much worse of me before they turn me off, and if they do, why, I’ll go to Paris Garden or the theatre and make my fortune.”
    “I’ll go to the apothecary and get a sleeping draught,” said Ellie, winking at me. “Maybe it will find its way into the guards’ beer.”
    I kissed them both—Masou rubbed quickly at the side of his head where my kiss had landed. Then I gave Ellie some coins for the sleeping draught and rushed off to round up the dogs and take them back in for rubbing down by one of the dog-pages.
    Which is why I happened to be at the stables talking to a groom when Sir Charles came wandering along, as he always does at that time of day. “Ah! Lady Grace,” he said.
    “Did we have a riding lesson today?” I asked, conscience-stricken that I might have forgotten it.
    He looked bewildered and then said, “No, I think not. With all that has happened…”
    “Well, at least let’s go and say hello to Doucette,” I suggested, because I didn’t want him to be disappointed. “I’m sure she misses you, if not me.”
    “Hmm,” he