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admitted.
    â€˜It’s the kind of thing I tend to notice. You see, I am one of those obsessively observant people. I seem to possess what is known as “sensitivity to visual impressions”.’ Paynespoke in apologetic tones. ‘Let’s play that bit again, shall we? I’ll show you. Lady Remnant, would you be so good as to rewind? There it is – stop. Look. Look .’
    There was a pause.
    â€˜Goodness, yes. How extraordinary,’ Lady Grylls said. ‘You are perfectly right, Hughie. Yes . It happens very fast. He’s holding the glass upside down and then he realizes it looks silly and turns it over quickly and handles it properly! The glass is empty, that’s as plain as the nose on your face … Does that mean Roderick wasn’t killed after all?’
    â€˜If he was killed, it was done in some other way.’
    Felicity said, ‘The anonymously sent videotape showing the precise moment of my brother-in-law’s death suggests that there was something wrong about it, wouldn’t you say?’
    Payne nodded. ‘Yes. I believe it does. Though it isn’t immediately clear from watching it how Lord Remnant died. The tape was sent to Lord Remnant’s brother, the present Earl Remnant … The sender is most likely to be one of the people who was there when Lord Remnant died. Some poor soul tormented by a guilty conscience or – or someone intent on stirring up miching mallecho .’
    â€˜I’d be grateful if you spoke plain English, Hughie.’
    â€˜Mischief, darling. Trouble. Miching mallecho is the phrase Hamlet uses … Did the tape sender mean to plant a suspicion or suggest a line of inquiry? Does the recording perhaps contain something which we should have seen but didn’t?’
    â€˜I thought we saw everything there was to be seen,’ said Lady Grylls.
    â€˜The bit where Lord Remnant dies – I’d like to see it again. If Lady Remnant doesn’t mind. It may be my imagination, but—’ He broke off.
    â€˜You saw something? What is it? Out with it!’ Lady Grylls cried.
    â€˜I want to see that bit again … If I am right,’ said Payne, ‘you will see it too.’
    ** See The Hunt for Sonya Dufrette . 

10
Maid in Waiting
    The phone rang and Clarissa’s heart jumped inside her. She wanted to answer it because she thought it might be Syl, whom she loved with a love that was passionate, single-minded and overpowering, but she also feared it might be the call she dreaded. When she eventually did pick up the receiver, she discovered it was somebody from the Sunday Telegraph .
    A journalist. A man. He said they wanted to do a feature on Remnant Castle – would Lady Remnant be good enough to show them around and give them an interview? The feature would appear in the Telegraph magazine. It was a friendly enough voice.
    Clarissa said no, impossible, out of the question; her husband had been dead only ten days, they must know that, surely? Couldn’t they be more sensitive? Her husband’s ashes were still warm in the urn, she was terribly upset, she was ill, she had been sleeping badly, everything was at sixes and sevens, she was receiving no one, couldn’t they leave her alone?
    ‘Perhaps you could call again when my brother-in-law takes over. You may find him more welcoming. He may even suggest writing the piece himself!’ She slammed down the receiver.
    Her brother-in-law had hinted he might sell the place. She was not at all surprised. That was what she had always wanted to do herself. Gerard needed the money for some crackpot idea of his. Another futile writing venture, she imagined.
    The day was cold and grey. She felt oppressed by the mists that invariably rose around Remnant. She felt cut off, isolated. The central heating wasn’t working properly and there was no one who could do anything about it. She had got rid of the servants – she had followed the instructions to the letter.