“No,” I said.

“Well, that’s good. Tossie hasn’t met any other strange young men whose names don’t begin with “C” since we came home.”

“I take it Mr. C hasn’t turned up,” I said.

“No,” she said, frowning, “and I haven’t been able to get a look at Tossie’s diary either. Which is why I need to report in. Perhaps the forensics expert has been able to decipher the name. Or one of the references to Princess Arjumand. And I need to tell them she’s back and—”

“There’s something else you need to tell them,” I said.

“About Professor Peddick and the coincidence of his knowing Colonel Mering? I already thought of that.”

“No,” I said. “Something else. I made Terence miss meeting Professor Peddick’s niece.” I explained what had happened at the railway station.

She nodded. “I’ll tell Mr. Dunworthy,” she said. “Meetings—”

There was a knock on the door.

Verity and I froze. “Who is it?” I said.

“It’s Baine, sir.”

I mouthed silently at Verity, “Can I tell him to go away?”

“No,” she mouthed back, flipped the bedclothes over Cyril, and started to crawl under the bed.

I grabbed her arm and mouthed, “The wardrobe.”

“Coming, Baine,” I called. “Just a minute,” and opened the doors to the wardrobe. She dived in. I shut the door, opened it and shoved the tail of her nightgown in, shut it again, checked to make certain no bits of Cyril were sticking out from under the coverlet, stationed myself in front of the bed, and said, “Come in, Baine.”

He opened the door, carrying a folded stack of shirts. “Your boat has been found, sir,” he said, heading straight for the wardrobe.

I stepped in front of him. “Are those my shirts?”

“No, sir,” he said. “I borrowed these from the Chattisbournes, whose son is in South Africa, until you can have your own things sent up.”

My own things. And where exactly was I supposed to tell him to send? But I had more immediate problems. “Put the shirts in the bureau,” I said, keeping between him and the wardrobe.

“Yes, sir,” he said, and laid them neatly in the top drawer. “There is also a suit of evening clothes and one of tweeds, which I am having cleaned and altered to fit. They will be ready in the morning, sir.”

“Good,” I said. “Thank you, Baine.”

“Yes, sir,” he said and went out without even being told.

“That was a close—” I began and he came back in carrying a tray with a china cup, a silver pot, and a small plate of biscuits.

“I thought you might care for some cocoa, sir.”

“Thank you.”

He set it on the nightstand. “Would you like me to pour it out for you, sir?”

“No, thank you.”

“There are additional bedcovers in the wardrobe, sir,” he said. “Would you like me to put one on the bed?”

“No!” I said, moving to block him. “Thank you. That will be all, Baine.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, but he still stood there, fidgeting. “Sir,” he said nervously, “if I might have your permission to speak…”

Either he knows Verity’s in the wardrobe, I thought, or he knows I’m an impostor. Or both.

“What is it?” I said.

“I… just wanted to say…” again that nervous hesitation, and I saw that he looked pale and haggard, “…to say how very grateful I am to you for returning Princess Arjumand to Miss Mering.”

It wasn’t what I expected to hear. “Grateful?” I repeated blankly.

“Yes, sir. Mr. St. Trewes told me you were the one who had found her, after your boat capsized and you had swum ashore. I hope you don’t think I’m speaking out of my place, sir, but Miss Mering is extremely fond of her pet, and I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to her.” He hesitated, looking nervous again. “It was my fault, you see.”

“Your fault?” I said blankly.

“Yes, sir. You see, Colonel Mering collects fish. From the Orient. He keeps them in a pond in the rockery.”

“Oh,” I said, wondering if my time-lag symptoms were recurring again. I couldn’t seem to see the connection.

“Yes, sir. Princess Arjumand has an unfortunate penchant for catching Colonel Mering’s goldfish and eating them, in spite of my best efforts to prevent her from doing so. Cats, as you know, are quite impervious to threats.”

“Yes,” I said. “And cajoling and pleading and—”

“The only disciplinary measure that I have found to have any effect on her is—”

It all came suddenly, blindingly clear. “Throwing her in the river,” I said.

There was a sound, like a gasp, from the wardrobe, but Baine didn’t seem to notice. “Yes, sir,” he said. “It doesn’t cure her, of course. It’s necessary to reinforce the message approximately once a month. I only throw her out a short way. Cats swim quite well, you know, when they are forced to. Better than dogs. But this last time she must have got caught in the current and—” He buried his face in his hands. “I feared she had drowned,” he said despairingly.

“Here,” I said, taking his arm and helping him into the chintz-covered chair. “Sit down. She hasn’t drowned. She’s perfectly all right.”

“She ate the Colonel’s silver Emperor fantail. An extremely rare fish. The Colonel had it shipped all the way from Honshu, at great expense,” he said, anguished. “It had arrived only the day before, and there she was, sitting next to the dorsal fin, calmly licking her paws, and when I cried out, ‘Oh, Princess Arjumand! What have you done?’ she looked up at me with an expression of utter innocence. I’m afraid I quite lost my temper.”

“I quite understand,” I said.

“No.” He shook his head. “I carried her out to the river and flung her out as far as I could and then walked away. And when I came back—” he buried his face in his hands again, “there was no sign of her anywhere. I searched everywhere. These last four days I have felt like Dostoyevsky’s Raskolnikov, unable to confess my crime, racked with guilt for having murdered an innocent creature—”

“Well, not quite innocent,” I said. “She did eat the silver Emperor fantail.”

He didn’t even hear me. “She must have been carried away by the current and come ashore farther downstream, wet, lost—”

“Full of fantail,” I said to keep him from burying his face in his hands again. And double-gilled blue chub, I thought.

“I couldn’t sleep. I realized that I— I knew that Miss Mering would never be able to forgive me if any harm had come to her precious pet, yet I feared that with her good heart she might, and I would not be able to bear her forgiveness or forgive myself. Yet I knew I had to tell her, and I had determined to do so tonight, after the séance, and then the French doors opened, and it was a miracle. There was Princess Arjumand, safely returned, thanks to you!” He clasped my hands. “You have my most profound gratitude, sir! Thank you!”

“Perfectly all right,” I said, pulling my hands away before he smothered them with grateful kisses or something. “Glad to do it.”

“Princess Arjumand might have starved or frozen to death or been killed by wild dogs or—”

“No use worrying about things that didn’t happen,” I said. “She’s safely home.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, and looked like he might go for my hands again.

I stuck them behind my back.

“If there is anything, anything I can do to return the service you have done me and show my gratitude, I would do it in an instant.”

“Yes, well…” I said. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you, sir,” he said and, grabbing my hand from behind my back, shook it heartily. “And thank you for hearing me out. I hope I haven’t spoken out of turn, sir.”

“Not at all,” I said. “I appreciate your telling me.”

He stood up and straightened his lapels. “Would you like me to press your coat and trousers for you, sir?” he said, regaining his composure.

“No, that’s all right,” I said, thinking that the way things had gone thus far I might need them. “You can press them later.”

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Will there be anything else, sir?”