“And might Lady Desdemona’s fortune alone preserve his lordship from ruin?”

“It should at the least supply his present want. My niece possesses no less than fifty thousand pounds. A man might murder for less. And then there is the inducement of silencing his blackmailer! The Earl perceives Mona’s enjoyment of Portal’s attentions — feels his influence is waning — she has already refused him once — and so he despatches the dangerous rival at a single blow, and leaves Kinsfell to supply his place. I like the stratagem very well.”

We had achieved the Labyrinth, and with an instant’s hesitation at its mouth, plunged within.

“Is this a favourite among your walks?” Lord Harold enquired.

“It is, my lord. I may safely claim to have braved the twists and turns of its charms, a hundred times or more. Like yourself, I delight in cunning blinds and stratagems, as I believe you comprehend.”

“And have you then fathomed the maze’s heart, my dear Miss Austen?”

“But that should defeat enjoyment entirely!” I replied. “We do not adventure the Labyrinth with conquest in view — rather the reverse. Did we achieve the center with celerity, we should as swiftly lose interest.”

We came to a turning in the path, with two possible avenues at our disposal. Lord Harold chose the right-hand way.

“And there, perhaps, may be the answer to Swithin’s motives,” he concluded. “He may pursue my niece for gain — or more simply yet, because she persists in denying him the prize.”

“He would not be the first gentleman since the dawn of time to behave in as absurd a fashion. But tell me, my lord — do Mr. Portal’s letters paint the Earl so thoroughly black? Is he quite lost to all goodness, that you should regard him as capable of every infamy?”

Lord Harold was silent a moment in reflection. “Lord Swithin is much entangled with a lady, whom Mr. Portal did not deign to name, but whom we may assume is Maria Conyngham, from the manager’s proximity to his company and the Earl’s appearance in the wings last evening.”

“Forgive me, my lord,” I said, “but are not a nobleman’s attentions to a rising actress comparatively commonplace? Surely the history of the theatre is littered with examples, both scandalous and tame.”

“As I have very good reason to know. But how disadvantageous a moment for his lordship’s exposure! Mr. Portal’s intimacy with Laura Place must have taught him how intent was Lord Swithin upon the attachment of Lady Desdemona; and so Portal’s threats to reveal his lordship’s liaison with Miss Conyngham could not fail to find an ear. Such knowledge was as gold in Portal’s hands.”

Our chosen path ended abruptly in impenetrable hedge, but I knew this way of old — and with a cry of satisfaction, showed Lord Harold a passage quite hidden behind a monolith of green. We had only to slip around it, to find the path continuing; and I discerned in this a useful lesson.

“—For what may appear to be a blank wall, my lord, may very often prove a door.”

“In life as well as mazes,” he mused.

“What possible necessity could have driven Mr. Portal to the extortion of so much money?” I enquired.

“An embarrassment in his circumstances. I have had the opportunity to consult Mr. Portal’s account book. I found to my satisfaction that all he possessed was mortgaged several times over. The Theatre Royal Company has not been paid in months. The theatre may be profitable, of course, but Portal was sorrily profligate; and the building of the new establishment in Beauford Square has demanded increasing sums. He faced ruin and seizure by a host of creditors, did he fail to obtain relief.”

“And who better to solicit than a wealthy peer? It is clear, now, from the Earl’s words in the Pump Room, that the letters he would have had Mr. Conyngham retrieve, were the self-same ones you have pilfered with your cunning picks. There is an unfortunate explanation in the offing, I fear, when the letters are discovered to be missing.”

“As they may already have been. I left the desk unlocked behind me — from a design of striking fear in the hearts of the complicitous. Mr. Conyngham will search for the letters; he will be unable to find them; and anxiety at the letters’ discovery will force him to divulge the whole to Swithin. Thus may we provoke the Earl’s hand.”

“Did we observe him in such a pass, we should learn much to our advantage,” I thoughtfully said. “It may save endless trouble on your nephew’s behalf, my lord, if we await the natural progress of events.”

“I believe I am of your opinion, Miss Austen.” Lord Harold hesitated between two branching paths, chose the left, and walked on. His eyes were fixed upon the gravel walk, as though he might read his future in the stones. “I long for some betrayal on Swithin’s part. For he has certainly managed the affair with miserable éclat. Would it not have been wiser, for example, to secure the blackmailing letters before dispatching their author with a knife? And what does he mean by arranging the deed in my mother’s house? Did he intend for Kinsfell to fall into his trap, and take the blame? And if so — was my nephew lured to the anteroom where Portal’s body lay, by the agencies of the very person whose name he now refuses to divulge? Is this why poor Simon clings to the claims of honour?”

“But what can be his purpose in so complete a destruction of your nephew, my lord?”

“I may hazard a guess. Maria Conyngham.”

We turned into a path that led to an abrupt wall of green — a decidedly dead end. Lord Harold turned, and retraced his steps, glancing about for the most likely direction. Having chosen it, he waved to me. I joined him hurriedly.

“I do not understand you, my lord.”

“Mr. Portal’s documents revealed a more troubling matter to my unwilling eyes last evening, Miss Austen, than the involvement of the Earl. For my nephew, it seems, is most ardent in his pursuit of one among the company. The very same Maria Conyngham.”

“She has been active, indeed, in cultivating admiration! At Mr. Portal’s behest, perhaps? Does she play with hearts in innocence — or for a share in the blackmailer’s spoils?”

“That is a cunning thought, indeed. I cannot undertake to say.”

“Her present disdain for Lord Kinsfell may be taken as a sign.”

“Or as a clever subterfuge to divert attention from herself. Full many a guilty woman has found refuge in righteous indignation.”

“But how was your nephew to be worked upon?”

“My brother Bertie intends Kinsfell to make a brilliant match; and regardless of the consideration due to the Dowager Duchess and her former career, His Grace should consider an actress quite below the ducal touch. Simon would be at pains to present the lady in the most virtuous and commendable light; and if her liaison with Swithin were bruited about—”

“I comprehend. Mr. Portal’s scheme was complete, indeed. But might this have been the subject of his dispute with Lord Kinsfell at the Dowager’s masquerade?”

“I cannot doubt it.”

I considered in memory the outraged Marquis; his tearful sister; his drunken opponent. In the shadows beyond their circle stood the Earl and Maria Conyngham, like pieces on a chessboard regarding their pawns. Did Lord Swithin or his agent thrust home the knife in Portal’s breast, he should be rid in a single stroke of both his blackmailer and his rival for Lady Desdemona’s fortune.

“And since the Earl is undoubtedly jealous of his mistress’s favours,” Lord Harold said, as though reading my thoughts, “and resentful in the extreme of Kinsfell’s attentions to Maria Conyngham, my unfortunate nephew was left to discover the body, and shoulder the blame for Portal’s murder. Fiendishly clever!”

I came to a halt upon the path, my mind in a whirl. “But this is madness, my lord! For we know Miss Conyngham to be united by affection to Portal himself — her present grief must make it so.” Unless—