"I've found that sleight of hand and illusion can be a good way of presenting a spiritual or moral lesson in a visual way. Not to put myself in the same august company, but Jesus Himself used parables-visual aids-in His ministry, and you can't say He wasn't something of a showman, although-"

"Will you be turning water into wine and producing loaves and fishes to feed the mult.i.tudes?" Dominic interrupted.

"Those I can't expect to match." Tom smiled a tight smile. "Anyway," he continued, unsure if his patter, unscripted and unrehea.r.s.ed, was drawing the punters in, "on Sat.u.r.day evening, Max very much wanted me to perform a certain sleight of hand, one from a category of cut-and-restored effects that always seem to appeal to children. I wasn't in a position to fulfill his wish-quite literally-because my foot was wrapped and elevated. In that instant, too, I was without my magic kit and certain paraphernalia. The-"

"If this is for Max's benefit, shouldn't the boy be here?" Hector frowned at him over the edge of his cup.

"Max and Miranda are playing Cluedo in the library, Hector," Marguerite replied in his stead. "Tom's trick may appeal to children, but this is intended as an adult gathering."

"It feels rather like we're playing Cluedo in the drawing room." Hector scowled.

"I was about to say," Tom continued, picking up the thread of his introduction, "that many magic performances, of whatever style, usually include one or two illusions where something appears to be broken or destroyed and yet is restored. I think when we see something destroyed, we experience a kind of psychic bruise, a spiritual strain, if you will. We've all, each of us, experienced life's destructive side, have we not?" He looked to them for agreement and noted a few flickers of recognition. "I don't think I need to point out that we have most profoundly experienced that side this weekend."

Tom paused to allow the truth of this to be absorbed-his eyes went to Marguerite-before appending his message: "However, there remains, as ever, the promise of healing and restoration." He smiled. "Now, I need a volunteer from the audience."

"We're hardly an 'audience,' Vicar."

"Hector, darling, please," Marguerite's tone was weary.

"I need," Tom began again, "a volunteer from those a.s.sembled who is wearing a suit this evening."

From the corner of his eye, he saw DI Bliss elbow DS Blessing, each of whom was wearing a dark suit, but he quickly cut in: "Ah, Lord Kirkbride, thank you. Lord Kirkbride will do splendidly. Come forwards." Tom beckoned Jamie, who stepped beside him at the fireplace and took a military stance, hands behind back, head held high.

"Lord Kirkbride," Tom continued, "your suit is from ...?"

"Oh ... Gieves and Hawkes, this one, I think. Hector and I have the same tailor, don't we, Hector?"

"Why are you all got up this evening anyway, James?" Hector glanced from his own casual trousers and open-necked shirt to Dominic impeccably, though informally, dressed in a cream polo shirt and navy trousers to John in his crumpled khakis.

"I ... I've run out of things to wear. We were on the moor late this afternoon, some of us. Got a bit damp."

"Yes, I know." Hector's brow furrowed. Tom noted a new, wary expression settle on his face; he continued, "And your shirt, Lord Kirkbride?"

"I'm not sure. Turnbull and a.s.ser would be my guess. I'd have to look at the label. I suppose Jane could-"

"A mere bagatelle, my lord. Not important. And your tie?"

"School tie. Shrewsbury. I've had it forever. Well, since school, of course. It only ever gets an airing if I attend one of the Old Salopian events, as I did last week. Like my regimental tie. Only comes out of the box, so to speak, when I have a regimental do."

"And did this come 'out of the box'?" Tom asked.

"Well, it came out of a drawer-the drawer in the dresser in our room here, if that's what you mean."

"School ties-ties that bind, in a way." Tom felt something cool and metallic slip into the palm of his hand. "My tie was navy with double red stripes. I attended Gravesend Grammar, opened by Princess Beatrice in 1893. Not quite the same as being founded under Edward the Sixth-"

"Actually, Father wanted us to go to Ludgrove and to Eton, as he had, but Mother wouldn't wear it. She was from the colonies, like my wife." Jamie smiled at Jane. "And couldn't bear the idea of us being away from her. So, as Packwood Haugh and Shrewsbury were in effect only down the road ... We were day pupils, all of us. Olly for a time, too, at Shrewsbury."

Mention of Oliver seemed to charge the atmosphere. Tom glanced about to note a certain shifting of limbs and straightening of attire. Only Lucinda sipped her coffee in unstudied casualness, while the two policemen continued to observe the proceedings with barely disguised impatience.

"What if I were to tell you, Lord Kirkbride"-Tom kept his attention on the others rather than his interlocutor-"that the tie you are wearing may have been the instrument that strangled Lord Morborne?"

All eyes hared to Jamie's neck, including Jamie's.

"What!" Bliss was the first to speak.

"Detective Inspector, I asked Lord Kirkbride-"

"I heard you, Mr. Christmas. What the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l do you think you're playing at?"

"This!"

Tom splayed the palm of his hand to reveal a pair of scissors-cuticle scissors, it was true, from his shaving kit, the only ones he had available-but they would do. To a short, sharp collective gasp, followed swiftly by a noisier rendition, he pulled Jamie's tie from the confinement of his suit jacket and dug the sharp edge of the scissors into the fabric an inch below the knot. If he'd had fabric shears he could have bisected the tie in one quick snip. But three were sufficient, even though the cloth retained some damp from the moor. Before Jamie had time to simulate dismay at the desecration, Tom was holding the limpid strip of cloth up for display and Bliss was stepping forward in a bull charge.

"Where did you find that?" he snapped.

"In my dresser drawer, as I said, Detective Inspector," Jamie replied.

"Is this a confession?"

"Of course, it isn't. It's simply my tie, which I found in my drawer."

"Then"-Bliss focused his pique on Tom-"how do you know it was used on Lord Morborne?"

"Inspector," Marguerite said crossly, "do you mind? You're spoiling the effect."

"Mr. Christmas, you have tampered with evidence!"

"But Inspector, I shall restore evidence in short order. Lady Kirkbride?" Tom gestured to Jane, who stepped nearer. "And Lord Kirkbride, would you remove what's left of your tie? Thank you.

"I am sorry about your tie, Lord Kirkbride," he pattered as Jamie fiddled with the knot and whipped the stub from around his collar. "But a little prestidigitation and it should be as good as the day it hung at Gorringes. Lady Kirkbride, I wonder if you might show everyone what you have with you."

Jane displayed the soft red velvet bag trimmed with green, a legacy of his days as the Great Krimboni, which Tom had bid her fetch earlier. It was about the dimensions of h.e.l.lo! magazine.

"Lady Kirkbride, is there anything in the bag?"

Jane opened it at one end and peered in. "Nothing," she said and without prompting turned it towards the others, the opening displayed like a wide dark mouth. "Absolutely empty."

"Now, Lord Kirkbride," Tom continued, "if you place your skinny end of the tie into the bag, and Lady Kirkbride, if you will take this portion-" Tom waved the tie's fat end in the air before handing it to Jane. "-and place it, too, into the bag ... thank you."

Tom blew into the bag and gave it a shake. "Does anyone have a magic word they'd care to use? Anyone? Lord Fairhaven?"

Hector scowled and said tonelessly, "Abracadabra."

"No one can accuse you of originality, Hector," Lucinda laughed.

"Abracadabra will do nicely," Tom cut in, continuing the patter as much to alleviate his growing anxiety as to distract the audience. "It has a venerable history in magic, its origins thought to be in Aramaic, which some scholars believe was the everyday language of Jesus. During the Great Plague, Londoners posted it on their doorways to ward off illness."

"And did it?" Hector glowered over the rim of his coffee cup.

"Well, not really."

"Then I can't imagine it will be very efficacious here."

"Hector, darling, don't be disagreeable." Marguerite smiled wanly at Tom. "Carry on. You're doing splendidly. Such fun."

Tom smiled back with equally feeble wattage. "Yes, anyway ..." He forced his cheeks into a wider performance smile. "Abracadabra!

"Now, Lord Kirkbride, all you need do is reach into the bag and you'll find your tie as good as the day it was woven." He held the bag towards Jamie, but in a swift movement withdrew it. "Would you like me to reach into the bag for you?"

As Jamie looked on with genuine perplexity, Tom answered for him. "No? Then please do reach into the bag."

With the grimace of someone about to perform a tonsillectomy on a crocodile, Jamie slid one slim hand gingerly into the velvet opening. He paused, a look of faint relief on his face, then pulled his hand back slowly, the thin end of the tie appearing first pressed between his thumb and forefinger.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed with unnecessary good grace when he'd finished the manoeuvre, holding up the fully restored tie to a smattering of applause. "How did you do that?"

"It's magic," Tom replied.

"It isn't," Bliss countered.

"An illusion, of course." Marguerite tapped her chin thoughtfully, adding with a quicksilver smile, "But cleverly done."

"Yes, of course, an illusion. Allow me another. Lord Kirkbride, please place the restored tie into the bag. Thank you."

Tom repeated the actions of before, declined to seek a magic word from the fractious a.s.sembled, and had Jamie place his hand in the bag once again. His Lordship pulled out, one following the other, two parts of a striped tie.

"Give those to me," Bliss barked. "Have you got an evidence bag, Sergeant?"

"Not with me, no, sir," Blessing replied.

"I said, Inspector"-Tom displayed cut fabric, one piece in each hand-"this tie, which Lord Kirkbride pulled from his dresser drawer this afternoon, may be the tie used to strangle Lord Morborne, but I doubt it is. I think if you had it a.n.a.lysed you would find it cleaned in some fashion, certainly pressed." He happened to glance at Madrun whose face evinced a curious enlightenment. "With no trace of the hands it's been through but for Lord Kirkbride's and mine. The tie used to strangle Lord Morborne will, I'm sure, contain all the physical evidence you need to charge someone with his death. And that-" Tom turned towards the fireplace, glanced again at the macabre overmantel, Triumph of Death, and fished into the changing bag, "would be-"

He turned back to the audience, unfurling the undamaged neckwear. "This tie."

"You've gimmicked the bag," Hector spoke sharply. Bonzo's head rose.

"Yes, I have. One of these ties, the undamaged one, was found in the tunnel that runs between the Egges...o...b.. Hall here and the stable block. It-"

"Tunnel?" Bliss interrupted. "What tunnel?"

"As the vicar said, Inspector, there's a tunnel-"

"I know that now. Why wasn't I told before?"

"You didn't ask." Hector bristled. "And I didn't think of it. We might open it as an attraction, but in the meantime the only one in the family with any interest in it is my son."

"And he found the tie?" Blessing spoke from the back of the room.

"Yes," Tom replied. "It was tucked behind some fallen bricks."

"Then am I to presume it was hidden by Lord Morborne's killer-someone who knew of the tunnel's existence?"

Tom could see the inspector surveying everyone in the room. "No, it was left in the tunnel by someone else," he answered.

"Who?"

"I left it." Anna spoke for the first time.

"I thought I glimpsed a fair-haired woman in the Labyrinth early Sunday morning," Tom explained.

"You're telling me this now?" Bliss's eyes glinted ominously.

"Forgive me, Inspector. I didn't mean to withhold. I wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light or not. Anyway, it was Anna. I followed the dew path she made to Egges...o...b..'s service entrance."

"You were in the Labyrinth at the time of Lord Morborne's death? You told me nothing of this in our earlier conversation." Bliss turned his frustration onto Anna.

"She's been protecting me." John took her hand.

"You don't look like you need protecting," Lucinda purred.

"Anna thought I might have been responsible for Oliver's death," John continued, ignoring Lucinda. "Didn't you, darling Anna? It's all right to say so. I can't fault you. I would have thought the same thing. Inspector"-he preempted Bliss, who had opened his mouth to speak-"my family here all know about the time I spent in gaol for my brother's death. What Anna has known for some few years, what you learned from her earlier, but what my family-apart from my brother and sister-in-law-doesn't know is that there is good evidence that Oliver ended Boysie's life."

"What!" Hector roared. "But-"

"You can't know what it's like to realise you've spent your days in prison unwittingly protecting someone like Oliver," John cut in. "Then to learn he'd run down Anna's brother in the road."

"Really?" Dominic and Lucinda exclaimed as one.

"You seem somewhat unsurprised by this revelation, Hector, my dear." Marguerite-Tom could see-had been searching her son's face.

Hector's cheeks flushed. "And you, Mummy, seem unsurprised by everything."

"I spend more than a fortnight a year at Egges...o...b.., Hector. One learns much."

"Hector, do you know something about David's death?" John bent to stroke Bonzo, who had padded across the carpet towards the open doors.

"Of course I b.l.o.o.d.y don't!"

John flicked a glance at Anna as he unbent and continued. "Anna knew how ... how incandescent I was. I'd gone for a walk in the late afternoon to cool down, but then I came back to our cottage for a time. I suppose when Anna didn't find me at home later-"

"Sat.u.r.day evening?" Blessing looked up from his notebook.

"I left to work a shift at the Pilgrims," Anna said, nodding. "I needed the distraction terribly. I was to have been here, to help Mrs. Gaunt, but I couldn't bear to be anywhere near Morborne."

"That evening I saw him pa.s.s our cottage window in the village with a few other men." John picked up the story. "It was getting dark, but Oliver was wearing that kufi hat you'd see in press photos. I didn't stop to think: I dashed out and shouted his name. He didn't recognise me at first, but perhaps something in my voice stopped him. He told the others to go on to the inn. Our ... conversation was brief."

"Seeing you in Abbotswick after so many years must have rattled him." Jane frowned.

"I saw a flicker of caution in his eyes when he realised who I was, but only a flicker. Bombastic Oliver, of course: He was hardly going to be crushed by anything I, his disgraced little cousin, had to say. There were no preliminaries: I told him I was sharing my life with a woman whose brother had been killed only days earlier by a hit-and-run driver. 'Pity,' he said."