She’d been sitting here playing eeny meeny miney mo, choosing the unlucky victim, never thinking to enter her own name in the draw. If these five men were to behave in concert she was ruined. And there was every sign that, with Sandilands acting as ringmaster, they were coming to an understanding.

Coming to? These were men trained to think and plan weeks and years ahead. The chilling thought came to her that the understanding might have been arrived at some time ago, an undeclared Plan B. If all else fails, look to a scapegoat. Once again she felt the presence of the sacrificial altar and the raised knife.

Lily locked stares with Fanshawe, grasping for words to attempt a defence. Finding none.

But Rupert hadn’t finished with her yet. Urged on by Sandilands’ attention, he enlarged on his theory. ‘And the lady, according to our information, is not exactly a wearer of the white cockade! Oh, she has no overt affiliations with the red organizations rampant in the country … one would hardly expect it in someone planning a serious coup. But her father is known to be a Bolshevist sympathizer.’ He passed a sheet of paper to Sandilands. ‘We’ve been enquiring. Not much time available to us but we have strong sources among the red brothers … and sisters. I hand you a list we’ve got together of meetings attended, associates and acquaintances established.’

Rupert gave an elegant shudder as Sandilands scanned his offering. ‘And this is the background of the woman, the stranger, whom we allowed to enter the ballroom unsearched, unchallenged … the woman we allowed to juggle with the prince’s plate.’ His voice expressed disgust and anger in equal measure. ‘I’m only surprised we didn’t issue her with the latest dinky little pistol to hide in her garter. I’m sure she’s an excellent shot too.’

A horrified silence descended on the group.

Sandilands’ tone, when he began to speak, was, in contrast, light and controlled: ‘You forget to add to your list of notable accomplishments that the constable is also an adept at the dark arts of eastern combat, Fanshawe. I’ve seen her break a fellow’s nose by smashing his head against a station platform. She could have snapped the royal neck at any moment as easily as you or I had she been murderously inclined. But what about an Irish connection? Anything known to Miss Wentworth’s detriment on this score?’

‘I have to say that we could find no trace of Irish connections,’ Rupert admitted resentfully.

‘I’m sure you tried your hardest,’ Sandilands said. ‘I’m wondering why you held off from escorting Miss Wentworth from the premises and throwing her into the deepest dungeon, Rupert. Help us to understand why you didn’t react.’

‘It was swiftly done and I was on the other side of the room, waiting for Connie Beauclerk to decide between duck and grouse. By the time I got to them, the prince had already made inroads into his food. A difficult moment. I observed that Miss Wentworth was not attempting to eat her own and this she would surely have done – as cover – had she secured for herself an unadulterated sample. Confusing, I think you’ll agree?’ He looked round the table for support but was met on all sides by the hard stares of men each of whom thought he would have reacted with more panache. ‘Well, before I could decide on the action I should take, along comes the wretched, interfering Gustavus, shoving his oar in. So the moment passed. I let it go. But I watched her, and the plates, carefully.’

Around the table air was sucked in through gritted teeth at this admission. Eyes were averted, heads lowered, as they considered the catalogue of negligence. The swift fall of the axe was deserved and awaited.

‘Mmm … Let’s be clear. You sat watching the prince – our prince – eating from a plate you suspected might have been tampered with. I wonder at what point you would have advised him to put down his fork? Before or after the death rattle? I think, as well as indecision, you must have been suffering some puzzlement, Fanshawe.’ Sandilands’ voice was a tormenting drawl. ‘As the evening proceeded His Royal Highness did not fall dead, frothing at the mouth. He continued to chat and called for his pavlova pudding.’

He paused, deep in thought. No one dared interrupt. ‘I offer you an alternative scenario. The food may well have been untainted. Heat – as the good doctor told us – vaporizes the poison and renders cooked food containing it harmless. So we would be looking at the uncooked dishes – caviar for example. No other caviar eater succumbed. Isit not possible that the poison – if poison it was – was not administered by plate at all, but by the far less chancy route of the wine glass?

‘All those glasses of wine you poured out, Fanshawe? From the bottle? Easy enough for a smart operator like yourself to dispense a noxious substance with which he is very familiar and to which he has easy access through his employment. The death capsules. I’m sure you have been issued with one or two? I must ask you to do a little stocktaking, Bacchus. Account for Fanshawe’s hand-out, would you? Your job is largely of a secretive nature and has been known on occasion to require a certain readiness to get one’s hands dirty. How dirty is your pouring hand, Fanshawe, after tonight’s events? You were holding both glass and bottle. Easy enough to hold a broken capsule at the neck of the bottle and remove it when you’ve spiked a particular glass. If so, it was, as you’d say, neatly done. And I would expect nothing less of a man of your training. I must say I observed nothing untoward myself and I was watching closely.’ His words were unemphatic but Fanshawe’s lips tightened. ‘Though I wouldn’t rule out the possibility … not when a clearly inimical and dangerous man is about to spill information the Branch would kill to keep quiet.’

Fanshawe was unable to speak. Bacchus made an offended grunting sound. The CID men maintained a mystified silence.

Only one voice was raised in objection. Lily managed to splutter: ‘Sir! That’s barmy! It’s unfair. How can you say that? Sorry, sir, but Fanshawe wouldn’t … he couldn’t …’

‘Wentworth, he would and he could if the circumstances demanded it,’ Joe explained kindly. ‘Now – barmy, you say? Quite agree. Unfair? Completely. So let’s all relax and be sensible, shall we? Enough villains out and about to blame for this fiasco – absolutely no need to go looking for anyone nearer home, Rupert old man. I think we need at this stage to consider the prince’s plate again. Yes, I think it would enlighten us all if you were to account for the sleight of hand with the plates, Miss Wentworth,’ he suggested. ‘It worried Fanshawe and it worries me. Clear up our confusion will you?’

‘Instinct, sir.’ Seeing both Sandilands’ eyebrows shoot up, she hurried to add: ‘Sorry … that’s unclear. Say rather I was being over cautious. I know your agent was right there at the scene and she “tipped him the wink”, as the prince himself put it, indicating that all was well as she ladled out the food. I saw her do it. Her eyes made contact with mine too. She knew who I was. “One of Sandilands’,” the prince told me. But all the same, in spite of the reassurance, I had a feeling that—’

‘Wait a minute, Wentworth. Just go back a bit. Agent? What agent?’

‘The waitress who was putting out the food. There were two of them, a boy and a girl. Brother and sister, I think. Italian. Or putting on a convincing accent.’

‘Anything to do with you, Bacchus?’

‘No, sir. You had our list. All four of our operatives were men. We only use English males. You know that.’

‘Get them in for interview first thing tomorrow morning. Describe her behaviour, Wentworth.’

‘She wasn’t behaving surreptitiously, sir. She had rather a flamboyant way with her. Pretty girl as far as I could make out under the frilly headdress. She picked up a plate, one of those special Russian top-table-only-for-the-use-of ones. Those with the double-headed eagle on them. She ran a cloth over it in a marked manner. You know – rather like a conjurer showing the audience there’s nothing up his sleeve. She seemed to be declaring that all was well, impeccably clean plate, no need for any concern. I’ll show you.’ Lily got to her feet and demonstrated. ‘She was serving the gentlemen. Didn’t you see her yourself, sir?’