"So did I, which is why I don't want him to be the killer."
"Where are we going?"
"Lanthorn Court, Surrey, home of Norman Walker. The next suspect on our list."
Lanthorn Court is less a mansion and more a castle. It was built in the 1860s by Lord Lanthorn, who is generally supposed to have been at least eccentric, and quite possibly insane. The building appears to have been built on an almost random plan, with bits and pieces all over the place, turrets, towers, pinnacles and so on.
We arrived about three in the afternoon, having stopped off to eat at a pub near Leatherhead. Scruff whistled as we passed under the gatehouse.
"Wow! Mr. Walker lives in style!"
"And total seclusion," I reminded her. "I don't even know if he'll see us."
"I'll do my fan-girl act for him too. It always works," Scruff offered - much to my amusement.
"Okay, Scruff. But first I'll approach him."
"And if he's the killer?"
"I doubt he'll give himself away. No, we'll have to keep our eyes on the possible victims."
"Who are?"
Galliard himself, Alice Slate, and Jackson Hughes. I'll watch Galliard, Emily will take Hughes, and you can take Slate."
"You mean I'll have to wear the Robin costume again?"
"Unless you've got a better idea?"
"I haven't," Scruff confessed.
Then we rounded a corner in the drive.
"Wow!" Scruff exclaimed. "That's where he lives?"
"An Englishman's home is his castle," I reminded her.
"Yes, but this is ridiculous!"
"That's what Pevsner said as well."
As I parked the Jag outside the strange mansion, I saw a British racing green sports car was parked outside. A car identical to the one Richard Coventry had used in 'The Adventurer'. I smiled, glad that they'd let Walker keep it.
"Okay, Scruff!" I jumped out of the car and Scruff followed. We crossed the gravel and I pushed the door bell.
I heard nothing, but trusted that a bell sounded in the depths of the mansion. At last the door opened.
"Hello, welcome to Lanthorn Court."
I looked into the face of Norman Walker.
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