‘But her news explains why Bahadur had to die. The moment she announced her pregnancy to the ruler, Bahadur’s claim to the throne would disappear like smoke and what could they expect him to do but rush to his father with his story? No more playing around with threats and practical jokes!’

‘And what would be Udai’s reaction? Could this story about Shubhada possibly be true? Was there a sinister reason for her sudden pregnancy? The proof of the pudding, of course . . . only time would tell . . . nine months to be precise before anyone would see who the child favoured. I’d bet my last shilling that it’s Udai’s child but, the seed of suspicion once sown . . . And Udai was under pressure – he had only days not months to come to a decision. There was a strong chance that he’d play safe and denounce Shubhada, send Claude away, his career in ruins, or simply feed the pair of them to the crocodiles . . . I don’t know.’

‘Could be arranged,’ agreed Edgar. ‘Ghastly accident while out fishing one evening, brave Resident hears screams, dives in to lend assistance. Snip! Snap! Gone to Delhi.’

‘And the fear of this retribution signed Bahadur’s death warrant.’

‘Yes . . . The boy was damn dangerous and no longer of any use to them. They didn’t need an unruly little Yuvaraj with a dubious claim to the throne when Shubhada was about to produce a legitimate heir. I think you’re right, Joe.’

‘And that’s a bad sign, Edgar! You’ve stopped arguing with me. We could be talking ourselves into a most embarrassing piece of jumping to conclusions. You may not know where you’re going but I’m heading for Lizzie Macarthur’s rooms. No, don’t groan! We need . . . I need a spot of Scottish scepticism and good sense. I also want to offer her my sympathy for her bereavement. She loved Bahadur, you know. Very much.’

Lizzie looked surprised and not at all pleased to see them. She invited them to come in and take a seat in a voice that was only just polite. Her hair was dishevelled, her face pale and her eyes still swimming with tears.

They sat down awkwardly side by side on the battered sofa. Lizzie didn’t make the customary offer of a drink which, for once, Joe would have been glad to hear, but eyed them balefully, settling down on a lab stool opposite. Joe had felt similarly intimidated in his housemaster’s study twenty years ago.

‘Don’t blame us, Lizzie!’ he plunged straight in. ‘Hear what we have to say, will you? You must be thinking that we’re the most incompetent pair of bodyguards to have let Bahadur die. That’s not what happened. The child was murdered. His killing was arranged in the most cold-blooded way.’

She listened in chilly silence but without interruption to the tale which Joe and Edgar between them hacked out, correcting and reminding each other as they went.

Finally, she looked at Joe directly. ‘You are telling me that Bahadur was killed by Claude and Shubhada, working together?’

He nodded.

‘What a clever chap you are, Sandilands! You gallantly shoot dead a pair of man-eating tigers but a pair of hunting humans is too much for your capabilities? You sent the boy out . . . no, you staked him out like a goat and they tore him to pieces almost under your nose!’

‘That’s unfair, Lizzie!’ said Edgar. ‘Calm down, for goodness’ sake!’

She made a visible effort to rein in her anger and, with a return to her usual cool tone, commented, ‘And Lois? What are we to think of her? She too a victim of two selfish people’s unthinking rush towards power? Poor, poor Lois! And tell me now what you propose to do with your information?’

‘I shall, of course, make Sir George aware of our suspicions and he will no doubt deal with Vyvyan in a discreet way. As for Shubhada, she is the mother of the future Prince of Ranipur and, as you know, the treaty we have –’

‘Shut up, Joe!’ said Lizzie. ‘Edgar, pour us a whisky and let’s think about this.’

‘In all this excitement, I hope you haven’t lost sight of the two previous deaths of heirs to the throne?’ said Lizzie. ‘Are we to suppose that Claude with or without the help of 3HH has been cutting a swathe through the royal family to achieve his ends? Three killings? Each one exposing him a little further? How dangerous! How mad! It’s hard to believe. And he’s such a charming man.’

‘No, as a matter of fact, I don’t believe Claude had anything to do with the first two murders. I think he and Shubhada saw the advantage they created for them, reducing the obstacles between them and the regency to one vulnerable but threatening young boy. They seriously thought they could pass the murder off as a further arranged misadventure, one of a series. I’m sure we were all meant to think that Zalim Singh was behind the clearing away of contenders for the throne, using his agent, Ajit Singh. If anyone enquired, he would discount any involvement by Claude because he truly was remote from the first two. It’s always misleading to assume that killings that occur in the same place or within a framework of time have necessarily been committed by the same man. No, I think Claude used the opportunity offered by the first and second deaths and hoped that if anything went wrong everyone would jump to the conclusion that another domino had fallen over – pushed by the same finger.’

‘Very well,’ said Edgar, ‘but have you stopped to think why he bothered? Risking his career, his reputation, his neck, for goodness’ sake . . .’

‘For what?’ said Joe crisply. ‘For the key to a fortune? For the inside of the bend to high office? For the love of a beautiful and powerful woman? No, hardly worth the effort, you’d say.’

‘Just doing what colonial powers have always done,’ said Lizzie thoughtfully. ‘Every provincial Roman governor expected to make three fortunes out of his stint abroad: one for Rome, one for himself in retirement and one to pay off the judges back home when he was charged with malpractice. I wonder how soon Claude was contemplating retiring? Tell me, Joe, is he still free to come and go about the palace? Or is he under restraint?’

Edgar and Joe exchanged a look. ‘Free as the breeze for all we know,’ said Edgar. ‘Apart from ourselves, you’re the only one who’s aware, Lizzie. Even Udai has not been told. He thinks Bahadur was killed by a tiger.’

‘And if, as you say, Claude has nothing more on his conscience than the death of Bahadur, who did kill Bishan and Prithvi then? Are you just showing off or have you really worked it out?’

‘I’ve worked something out,’ said Joe. ‘Something in which Ajit Singh appears to concur if the ruler is to be believed. But I have yet to push the murderer into revealing himself . . . or herself. I may be wrong. I’ve been wrong once already. It had occurred to me that . . . sorry, Edgar, this will offend you, I know . . . I had thought that the sons had been removed to make way for Bahadur. Removed for the well-being and security of the princedom by their father.’

When Edgar’s explosions of dismay and disgust had rolled away, Joe patiently explained his reasoning. Lizzie nodded several times.

‘Edgar, do be quiet!’ she said, finally. ‘Joe, are you sure you’re not right? It sounds very convincing to me. We all know – even Edgar knows – that the good of the state was Udai’s main concern. He would have put it first every time. And to be honest, I wasn’t in the least bit sorry when Bishan died. We all heaved a sigh of relief.’

‘But Prithvi was different. He would have been acceptable had not one vital flaw ruled him out as far as Udai was concerned, and that was his obdurate refusal to marry a second wife,’ said Joe. ‘But then Sir George tore the most almighty hole in my neat theory this morning when he told us that the British Government had been given news of the forthcoming marriage between Prithvi and a Rajput princess. Very hush-hush and before it was made public Prithvi had died.’