Dorothy picked up her knitting again and began to count her stitches.

‘And of course they all had a motive,’ she muttered.

‘Of course!’

Rosemary gestured towards Belinda Scott, who sat gracefully fingering the keys of the piano.

‘Revenge! The only man Lady Belinda ever loved was Randolph Fitzpayne, the dashing youngest son of the Earl of Devon. Hilary Bryant dallied with his affections, then broke off the engagement. In despair, Randolph became a sheep farmer in Patagonia, where he was killed in a duel by a drunken gaucho. Lady Belinda never forgave the faithless temptress who had blighted both their lives.’

She pointed to the military man poring over his newspaper.

‘As for Weatherby, he was the chief beneficiary of Hilary Bryant’s will, which the colonel’s flattering attentions had ill-advisedly induced the former beauty to change in his favour just a few weeks before her death…’

Rosemary’s finger swung across the room to settle on the blanket-enshrouded form of Mrs Hiram Hargreaves III.

‘…all unbeknownst to the dead woman’s sister, who was under the illusion that she would inherit in the event of her sibling’s untimely death.’

Dorothy smiled happily.

‘Yes, it’s all coming back to me. But what about Purvey? Surely a man of religion must be above suspicion?’

Rosemary shook her head.

‘As one of the guests, he is by definition a potential suspect. Besides, if you remember, we decided that Purvey is in fact no clergyman but the penniless actor whom Hilary married in her youth, only to abandon him when she met Randolph Fitzpayne.’

‘While Grace Lebon is his present wife and accomplice, as yet unaware that their marriage is a hollow sham…’

‘.. and Charles Symes the raffish society burglar who is pretending to make love to her-a mutual deception which suits both their purposes-while plotting to steal the priceless but ill-fated diamond known as “The Evening Star” which Randolph Fitzpayne gave Hilary Bryant in a vain attempt to bind that faithless heart to his.’