'So,' Thaxton asked, 'would the murderer come back and deliberately or accidentally drop the murder weapon at the very spot where his victim had been sitting?'
Tyrene said, 'Then you're saying the murder was committed here, where the viscount supped with Lady Rilma?'
'Yes, that's more or less what I'm saying. And the knife was dropped immediately.'
'Why was it dropped?'
'Don't know that,' Thaxton admitted.
Tyrene reached a finger up to scratch his shoulder underneath his leather cuirass. 'Damn me. But Lady Rilma ??'
'Must have been looking the other way.'
Dalton said, 'But with all these people around?'
Thaxton sighed. 'No, it doesn't make sense, does it? But murder often isn't well thought out.'
'Oh?' Dalton said, with interest.
'Hardly ever. Ninety-nine percent of murders are done on the spur of the moment. Impulsive acts. Your locked-room mystery is a creation of fiction writers with overblown imaginations.'
'Really.'
'We'd better have a talk with Lady Rilma again,' Tyrene decided. 'As much pain as it causes.'
Lady Rilma was sitting in a canvas chair beneath a stately weeping willow, which was appropriate, because she was still wetting a white embroidered handkerchief. Three ladies attended her.
Tyrene approached. 'My lady, I realize ?'
Lady Rilma burst into full cry again.
Tyrene regarded the sky for a moment. Then he said, 'If I might have a further word with you, milady?'
Sniffling, she nodded.
'Is there something, anything, you can tell us about what happened shortly before your husband left?'
Lady Rilma was wore a red wimple and little makeup. Her nose was long and her teeth were small and somehow feral-looking. She looked to Thaxton like a nun in a colored habit.
'I told you,' Rilma said. 'We were dining, quite pleasantly ?'
'Alone?'
'Yes, as I told you.'
'Were you talking?'
'Yes. I can't remember exactly what about, but we were indeed talking, yes.'
'Did he mention that he was afraid of something, that he feared something would happen?'
'No.'
'Did he mention that he had had words with someone, some argument?'
'No.'
'Did he…?' Tyrene scratched his head. 'My lady, did he ever at any time express to you the fear that someone might make an attempt on his life?'
'No.' Lady Rilma was offered a fresh hanky and took it. She blew her nose loudly into it.
'Now, what exactly happened just prior to the time your husband left?'
'Why, nothing, I told you. He just got up and left.'
'Did he say something?'
'Yes. He said, _I must leave.''
'Were those his exact words?'
Lady Rilma shrugged. 'I don't remember his exact words. He said, _I'm going' or _I must be going now,' or something to that effect.'
'Could you tell me anything else that might be helpful. How did he look?'
'Look?'
'Did he look frightened or upset?'
'No.' Lady Rilma honked into the hanky again, then thought. 'He did look… well, I don't quite know how to describe it. He did look a little… strange.'
'Strange? In what way, milady?'
Lady Rilma inclined her head to one side, then the other. 'In a strange way. How else can it be put? He had a strange look on his face.'
'How strange? Slightly strange? Very strange?'
Lady Rilma glanced heavenward. 'Gods! Yes, slightly strange, if you will.'
'I beg your indulgence, my lady. He gave you this strange look, then he said that he had to leave?'
'Yes.'
'At that point he got up and left?'
'Yes, he got up and left.'
'He said nothing else?'
'Nothing.'
Tyrene looked off for a moment, halting a motion to scratch himself again. 'Yes, I see. I see. And nothing untoward happened up to that point.'
'No, nothing.'
'No one came up to your husband, no one approached?'
'Well, yes, someone did, but that was well before he left.'
'Who talked with him?'
'Count Damik.'
'And what did the count say?'
'I didn't listen. I was busy watching the hedge players.'
'The count and your husband exchanged words. How long did they talk?'
'A very short time, as I recall.'
'And you did not hear what was said.'
'I think I said that.'
'Sorry, milady, simply repeating for the sake of emphasis. Did anyone else talk to the viscount while you dined?'
'No. I don't recall anyone else.'
'Are you quite sure, my lady?'
'I think so. Wait a moment. Yes. Someone did approach before Count Damik. Lord Arl.'
'He spoke with the viscount?'
'No. He simply passed by and touched my husband's back, as if he wanted to get his attention. I thought it strange, since the viscount and his brother weren't on speaking terms. Perhaps his touching him was simply accidental.'
Tyrene slumped a little. 'Well, I shall trouble you no more, my lady. Thank you very much for your kind cooperation in this very difficult moment.'
Lady Rilma sniffed again. 'Only too happy to oblige.'
Tyrene bowed and began to walk away.
'There was one other thing.'
Tyrene halted. 'Yes, my lady?'
'He grunted. Just before he left.'
'He…?'
'Made a sound. I thought…' She gave a tiny giggle. 'I thought he belched. But it was a funny sound.'
'What… pardon, milady, but what sort of funny sound? You say it was a grunt?'
'Yes, he just made this funny grunting sound and sat up straight suddenly.'
'Ah. Did you look at him when he made this sound?'
'No. As I said, I thought he belched. He does that. Did that. I've often complained.' She shook her head sadly. 'No matter.'
'And you didn't look at him.'
'No, not immediately. I continued watching the players, then I turned to look at him and he was sitting up
