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lovely view from the window. We signed up for this chamber, and Bunny took a room on the west side with a promised view of the Royal Crescent.
    The clerk, whose name was Mr. Soames, personally escorted us to the Prince George Suite. “Here we are,” he said, throwing the door open to a view of unaccustomed splendor. The gleam of gilt and glare of red canopy and window hangings struck the eye with a blinding force.
    “Are you quite sure Mr. Hume stayed here?” Mrs. Lovatt asked in a weak voice.
    “Yes indeed, ma’am. Mr. Hume always stayed in the best suite. I’ll just leave you to have a look around. But I should remind you , Lord Fairfield will be arriving shortly.” He bowed before leaving.
    “Before you leave us, Mr. Soames,” I said, “could you tell us anything about my father’s death? How it came about, or when it happened. We were quite at a loss when we learned he was shot, for we had been told it was a heart attack.”
    “Oh dear!” he said, with a worried look. “Oh dear. Shot—yes, we thought it was a water jar falling. Just at the supper hour it happened, when most of the rooms were empty.”
    “Did he have any visitors?”
    “No, none. He had been out that afternoon, and returned to change for dinner. Perhaps someone was with him. We are busy here, you know. We cannot keep an eye on everyone who comes into the hotel. We are all deeply sorry , Miss Hume.” He continued on a tide of condolences as he backed away. He was so flustered that I took pity on the man and let him escape.
    We walked into the suite, staring and blinking in astonishment. “There is some mistake. Harold never stayed in this room,” Mrs. Lovatt declared.
    Bunny had strolled to the bed and was lifting the skirt to peer under it. I went to the desk and began opening drawers to search for clues. It was Mrs. Lovatt who discovered the adjoining saloon. It was rigged up like a polite saloon, with sofas, tables, chairs, and pictures on the wall. When I joined her, she said, “Unless your papa held some important meetings here, I cannot imagine what he would want with this extravagance. It would cost a fortune.”
    “It’s just as well we aren’t hiring it,” I said in a small voice. I had been going over my father’s bankbook when his estate was being wound up. He had not taken any very large sums from the bank prior to his trips to London—or Brighton. Soames had mentioned Papa “always” hired this lavish suite. Had he been coming here all along?
    “Found something!” Bunny called in an excited tone.
    We raced in to find him kneeling by the bed, holding a feather. “This was under the bed,” he announced.
    “Good gracibus,” Mrs. Lovatt laughed. “He would not have brought the birds here. He would have left the cage in the stable. That is a goose feather, from a feather duster.”
    Bunny pocketed the feather and we continued our search. The rooms revealed no further clues. We were about to give up and leave when the door flew open and a young gentleman stepped in. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at us. His eyes, of a brilliant cerulean blue, studied us each in turn, finally settling on me. “You must be Miss Hume,” he said, in a cultured voice.
    “Yes, and you, I collect, are Lord Fairfield. I am sorry. We are just leaving.”
    “The clerk explained that I might find you here—and the reason. May I express my condolences on your loss , Miss Hume. Please, take your time. I shall return later.”
    While he spoke, I subjected the newcomer to a thorough examination, and decided he belonged on a pedestal in Greece. From the tip of his sleek golden head to the toe of his shining Hessians, and in every inch of the intervening six feet, he was perfection. His noble visage might have been chiseled by Pericles. His body, while somewhat slighter than the Greek ideal, was perfectly proportioned.
    I pulled myself back to attention and replied, “We were just leaving, milord. I am sorry to have