Inside the drawing-room there was pandemonium. Various voices spoke at once. ‘Lights.’ ‘Can’t you find the switch?’ ‘Who’s got a lighter?’ ‘Oh, I don’t like it, I don’tlike it.’ ‘But those shots werereal!’ ‘It was areal revolver he had.’ ‘Was it a burglar?’ ‘Oh, Archie, I want to get out of here.’ ‘Please, has somebody got a lighter?’

And then, almost at the same moment, two lighters clicked and burned with small steady flames.

Everybody blinked and peered at each other. Startled face looked into startled face. Against the wall by the archway Miss Blacklock stood with her hand up to her face. The light was too dim to show more than that something dark was trickling over her fingers.

Colonel Easterbrook cleared his throat and rose to the occasion.

‘Try the switches, Swettenham,’ he ordered.

Edmund, near the door, obediently jerked the switch up and down.

‘Off at the main, or a fuse,’ said the Colonel. ‘Who’s making that awful row?’

A female voice had been screaming steadily from somewhere beyond the closed door. It rose now in pitch and with it came the sound of fists hammering on a door.

Dora Bunner, who had been sobbing quietly, called out:

‘It’s Mitzi. Somebody’s murdering Mitzi…’

Patrick muttered: ‘No such luck.’

Miss Blacklock said: ‘We must get candles. Patrick, will you-?’

The Colonel was already opening the door. He and Edmund, their lighters flickering, stepped into the hall. They almost stumbled over a recumbent figure there.

‘Seems to have knocked him out,’ said the Colonel. ‘Where’s that woman making that hellish noise?’

‘In the dining-room,’ said Edmund.

The dining-room was just across the hall. Someone was beating on the panels and howling and screaming.