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another sip of the restorative nectar. And ruminated. We had one missing regicide (Mortimer, R) one missing failed regicide (Fawkes, G) and tomorrow the Queen (Victoria, R) would be at the H of P for the state opening of parliament. This could not be a coincidence. Murgatroyd of The Yard, the coincidence denier, would have given short shrift to anyone who suggested otherwise.
    “There is also the question, sir, as to whether the person who reanimated Sir Roger is party to the conspiracy. It could be he, and not Sir Roger, who is, as you say, the mastermind. Or, equally, he could be an innocent party who reanimated Sir Roger for the truest of reasons only to have that ancient knight turn upon him.”
    This was looking more and more like a four-cocktail problem.
    “Didn’t Snuggles say he was the only chap reanimating these Necro-what-etheans?”
    “Necrometheans, sir. Yes, he did.”
    Which would make Snuggles the number one suspect. He had the means. He had the opportunity. But what was his motive? To kill the Queen?
    “Why would anyone reanimate two regicides, Reeves? One would think one was enough.”
    “I think I may have the answer to that, sir. This article in The Times says that the police believe Sir Roger’s tomb was broken into last week. That would indicate that Sir Roger was reanimated before Mr Fawkes.”
    “With you so far, Reeves, but what has that to do with anything?”
    “I was reading an improving book about the Gunpowder Plot last night, sir, and read that the tunnel, which Guy and his fellow conspirators dug under the Houses of Parliament, has never been found — not even during the rebuilding of 1840.”
    “So there’s a secret tunnel under the H of P that only Guy knows about?”
    “Quite, sir. I would posit that Mr Fawkes’ knowledge of the tunnel is essential to the plan. As to whether the plan is Sir Roger’s or Mr Snuggles’ or, indeed, another person’s, I cannot tell.”
    I don’t know if there is such a thing as a five-cocktail problem, but if there is, this was it.
    I was deep in thought and olives when a breathless Emmeline burst into the room.
    “I’ve found ‘M,’” she said.
    ~
    “It stands for Mortimer,” said Emmeline. “Is there somewhere I can put my banner?”
    Emmeline was clutching an impressive banner supported by a carved golden pole some six feet long. The words ‘Votes For Women: Deeds Not Worms’ were embroidered in green and purple on white silk.
    “Worms?” I asked, somewhat confused.
    “It’s supposed to say ‘words’ but I can soon fix it. I have some purple thread at home, and it was half price.”
    Reeves took Emmeline’s banner and hat and stowed them in the hall.
    “How did you find out about Sir Roger?” I asked. “He hasn’t been buying his own ReVitaCorpse, has he?”
    “Who’s Sir Roger?” asked Emmeline.
    “Sir Roger Mortimer. You said you’d found him.”
    “No. I found Jasper Mortimer. He’s bought more ReVitaCorpse than anyone else. Who’s Sir Roger?”
    I told her all.
    “Edward II?” said Emmeline. “Wasn’t he...? With a...?”
    “Yes, miss,” said Reeves. “Which is why I counsel that Sir Roger be treated with extreme caution.”
    Emmeline then recounted her tale of sleuthing in Fortnum’s Promethean Essentials Department.
    “You wouldn’t believe the items they have on sale there, Reggie. There’s a ‘mix ’n match’ counter with spare tonsils, assorted toes, and fresh spleens. And the sales assistant was orange!”
    “It wasn’t Guy by any chance, was it?” I asked.
    “No, she was unquestionably a woman. She wouldn’t give me the names of the ReVitaCorpse purchasers at first. But then I noticed her brooch was in the suffragette colours, so I told her I was working on a case for the Pankhursts and she let me see the ledger.”
    “Most enterprising of you, miss.”
    “I thought so,” said Emmeline. “I copied down all the names, how much they’d bought, and when. Jasper Mortimer bought two