‘I think that’s right.’

Cooper recalled visiting Newstead Abbey in Nottinghamshire once and being told by the guide about Lord Byron’s habit of enjoying indoor pistol practice, resulting in bullet holes in the walls and doors. That must have been in the early nineteenth century. Nothing much changed, really.

‘If you leave via the main entrance of the abbey, you should take a look in the old nursery on your way out,’ said Burns. ‘Just follow the signs.’

‘Did you keep the anonymous letter?’ asked Cooper.

Burns reached into a drawer and produced a tattered envelope. ‘Yes. I thought you might want it.’

Cooper winced, thinking of all the fingerprints and extraneous trace substances now contaminating the evidence. Fry produced a pair of gloves and a plastic bag. She extracted the letter and they both read it. Like the address on the envelope, the message was produced on a laser printer, and it was very short.

Our dead are never dead to us, until we’ve forgotten them. Remember: Death will have his day!

‘A quotation, I suppose,’ said Fry. ‘What is it from?’

‘We never really troubled to find out,’ said Burns. ‘It didn’t seem important at the time.’

‘Come on, Ben, you’re the literary one.’

But Cooper was frowning over the message. ‘It sounds like a quotation,’ he said. ‘But I think it’s a bit of a hotch- potch.’

‘“Death will have his day” sounds familiar,’ said Fry. ‘It’s got to be either Shakespeare or the Bible.’

‘Possibly.’

‘Or am I thinking of “Every dog will have his day”?’

Cooper handed her the letter and she slid it back into its envelope. He wondered what she was really doing here, if she was trying to help. She certainly wasn’t helping very much so far.

‘It doesn’t necessarily seem like a threat anyway,’ said Fry. ‘It’s just a quotation. It could mean anything. What do you think, Ben?’

‘Well, it wouldn’t stand up in court,’ he said. ‘Not on its own.’

‘It’s addressed to “Earl Manby and family, Knowle Abbey”. They’ve even used the postcode. First-class stamp, but the postmark is unreadable of course. I can’t remember the last time I was able to read a postmark.’

‘Do you have any idea what it means, Miss Burns?’ asked Cooper.

She shook her head. ‘It’s too vague. We didn’t take the letter seriously – we almost threw it away in the office, but for some reason I left it in a tray and it stayed there.’

‘And that was about three weeks ago?’

‘Yes. The vandalism is more recent. One of the staff found it on Friday morning, fortunately before the first visitors arrived.’

‘I think there was a report of an intruder in the grounds.’

‘Yes, we’ve had a few incidents in the past. They’re usually harmless, of course. Just the curious or drunk. Usually, they get too close to the buildings and trigger a security light, then they disappear as fast as they can. We do get poachers now and then. There’s a herd of roe deer in the park. But this one seemed different. A bit more disturbing. One of the security team spotted him and said he was dressed in dark clothing and just seemed to be watching from a safe distance in the trees, where he was out of range of the sensors. He’d gone when they went to look for him.’

‘Do you know of any reason why the earl or any of the members of his family should be targeted in this way?’ asked Cooper.

Burns shrugged. ‘It’s just general envy, isn’t it? Some people get very bitter.’

Cooper glanced at Fry. ‘I suppose so.’

‘But I’m aware that we have to take a few precautions. In case there’s anybody who decides to take their grievance further.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘You said the graffiti was found on Friday morning,’ said Fry.

‘Yes?’

‘What was going on here at Knowle Abbey on Halloween night?’

‘Ah, take a look for yourself.’

Burns took a leaflet from a pile on her desk. ‘We have to find any opportunity to put on special events and get people in. We’re starting to prepare for our Christmas events now.’

Fry took the leaflet, scanned it quickly and passed it to Cooper. On a spooky background of ghosts and bats flying across the moon, it read:

Knowle at Halloween. Thursday 31 October. Explore Knowle Abbey’s dark and spooky interior. Definitely not for the faint-hearted! Gather in the restaurant for a spooky themed meal or a glass of Dutch courage before departing up to the abbey by timed ticket. The restaurant will be open from 6pm for pre- and post-performance suppers and refreshments. Please note that due to low light levels and time constraints, this event is not suitable for visitors with limited mobility. Tickets £20 per person. Must be booked in advance.

‘Twenty pounds?’ said Fry flatly. ‘How many people did you get coming along for that price?’

‘Oh, a few dozen.’

‘So you had strangers wandering around the abbey in the dark all evening from 7 p.m.?’ said Cooper.

‘Not wandering around exactly, Sergeant. All the groups were accompanied by a guide.’

‘Even so…’

‘I’m afraid it’s not exactly difficult to get into the abbey grounds at night, if you’re determined to do so,’ said Burns. ‘Of course, we have security. And alarms.’

‘But if all you want to do is creep up to the chapel and daub some graffiti on the wall, while the public are trooping in and out of the abbey for some Halloween event…’

‘Yes. Anybody could have managed it.’

‘“Explore Knowle Abbey’s dark and spooky interior”,’quoted Fry. ‘I take it that means…’

‘Of course. We had all the lights turned off. For atmosphere, you know.’

‘Is the earl himself at home at the moment?’ asked Cooper.

‘Yes, he and the countess are in residence, along with their younger son and their daughter, Lady Imogen.’

‘And do you happen to have a photograph of Lord Manby that we could use?’ asked Cooper.

Burns looked surprised. ‘Why on earth would I have one of those? He’s hardly some kind of rock star handing out signed photographs to his fans.’

‘No, I just thought—’

‘In fact, Walter is a very private man,’ said Burns stiffly. ‘He prefers not to be recognised, even when he’s here around the abbey. And he doesn’t do much in public, if he can avoid it. To be honest, I think he would rather find some other way of paying for the upkeep of the abbey, instead of letting all these visitors in. It’s his home, after all.’

‘I understand.’

When they left the estate office, Cooper and Fry followed the arrows pointing towards the main entrance. But Cooper paused in a passage lined with peeling doors. While Fry fidgeted impatiently, he opened a door marked ‘Nursery’. Even if he hadn’t been told by Meredith Burns, it would have been obvious that the army had been billeted in this part of the house. There were maps and flags scattered among the toys. The wallpaper was filthy, and the doors and skirting boards looked as though they had been kicked repeatedly by heavy boots.

In the Great Hall the walls were lined with enormous Manby family portraits. The present earl was there – Walter, 9th Earl Manby of Knowle Abbey. In previous generations his ancestors seemed to have been christened with wonderful aristocratic names like Algernon, Peregrine and Clotworthy.

The collection of earls and their relatives gazed down with apparent astonishment at the crowds of strangers who must come through this hall every weekend to gawp at the abbey. Walter’s Victorian grandfather, the seventh Lord Manby, looked particularly outraged at the prospect.

When they got back to the car Fry sat and stared at the façade of Knowle Abbey for a while. From her expression she didn’t seem to be impressed by the quality of the architecture. Maybe the pillars and porticos weren’t quite symmetrical enough for her taste.

Or perhaps something else was causing the sour look on her face.

‘What are you thinking, Diane?’ asked Cooper curiously.