“Miss Daisy,” he said, “how long is it since the last king lived here?”
“Why do you ask me that again?” she said. “I don’t know. A hundred years ago, perhaps. They killed him, you know. I wonder if they threw his body into the sea there?”
“Was it last December?”
“Of course not. How can you be so silly? As if any one would kill a king last December! They only did things like that centuries ago.”
Phillips took from his pocket the torn envelope he had picked up in the great hall.
“Look,” he said, “I found that near the fireplace in the hall we went into first.”
“It’s an old envelope,” she said. “It must have belonged to the king they killed. How interesting! Fancy their having had envelopes in those days!”
“The postmark on it,” he said, “is London, and the date is December 15, 1913. Some one was in the house since then, living in it.”
The Queen clapped her hands.