"You know--the death--the Princess." Trevor said, knowing the inspector knew what he was talking about.

"Oh, yes. Of course. The accident, you mean. And who might they be?"

"Perhaps I should start from the beginning," Trevor offered.

"Yes, perhaps you should, but before you do," Inspector Kent lowered his voice to barely above a whisper, "perhaps you should be quick about it. I have three or four more people who also have evidence to offer that there is a conspiracy afoot."

Trevor looked puzzled, then realized that the inspector was being facetious. "I--I don't have to be here at all," he said indignantly. "I came here of my own accord. I could very well lose my job over this."

"What job would that be?"

"Social secretary to His Highness, the Prince."

Inspector Kent had become accustomed to nuts like this one. He would play along though. He liked his job, and he did his job well, even though the looneys made it more difficult. "You have some type identification on you?"

"My wallet was stolen just last evening. You can call to confirm, of course."

"Of course. Tell me, was it the Prince who was at the center of the conspiracy?"

"Absolutely not," Trevor spat, "His Highness would never be part of such a thing."

"Then who are we talking about?"

"John Gibson, the public relations wizard they hired to try to do something about all the bad press the Prince was getting."

At least the man was original. The last looney didn't even have a name to offer the Inspector. He had merely ranted and raved about a conspiracy. This man at least had a suspect.

Trevor continued. "And the other two were Philip Davies and Alfred Newton."

"Alfred Newton?"

"You know him?"

"If he's the Chief of Security, I know of him."

"Yes, that's him."

Kent knew Newton to be a man of utmost integrity. When he left Scotland Yard for his post at the palace, he was one of the most decorated officers in its long and celebrated history. Kent immediately reclassified the nervous man as nothing more than another basket-case out to make a difficult job more difficult. But he evidently had done his research and the story was interesting. He would give him a go. "And what was it they did, exactly?"

"Planned the whole thing."

"You know they planned it? Why didn't you come to us before now. It's a little late, don't you think?"

"I didn't exactly know they were planning it."

"What do you mean, you didn't exactly know they were planning it?"

"Well, I was finishing up the other night"

"The other night?" Kent interrupted. "Can you be a little more specific?"

"Two Wednesdays past," Trevor continued. "I usually go home around four in the afternoon. The Prince is usually at some function or another by that time, but that Wednesday, I had some invitations to get out for a special dinner party His Highness was giving, so I was in my office until about five in the afternoon when Mr. Gibson and Mr. Newton came into the Prince's office. They must have come in through the private entrance, because they would have known I was there, otherwise. If they had come in from directly off the hallway, they could have seen me at my desk, since I was working with the door between my office and his highness' office slightly ajar."

"Did you see them?"

"Yes, I got up to see if his highness had returned."

"But they didn't see you?"

"No, I only just glanced in the doorway and went back to my desk."

"You weren't concerned that these men were in the Prince's private office?"

"Mr. Newton has the run of the palace. I was rather surprised that Mr. Gibson was there, though. He's usually in his office. I don't ever recall seeing him in His Highness' office."

"But he was there that particular Wednesday."

"Yes."

"Go on." Kent was getting into the story.

"I didn't hear much of what was said at first. It was just Mr. Newton and Mr. Gibson, but then I heard Mr. Davies come in."

"Did you get up to see Mr. Davies?"

"No, but I recognized his voice."

"How is that?"

"He's His Highness' personal attendant and closest companion. He's with the Prince almost constantly." Trevor lowered his voice, "He stands to gain the most when the Prince becomes King."

"I thought I recognized the name." Kent commented.

"When Mr. Davies came in, they talked quietly for a few minutes, then they began to raise their voices. Mr. Gibson said something like 'You don't have any idea what a difficult time I've had with this whole matter. If you think it's easy to cover the Prince's royal muck, you're insane.' And Mr. Newton said, 'What do you propose we do then, kill her?'"

"Her?" Kent asked.

"Her Highness, of course." Trevor mopped his face with his handkerchief. "I was intrigued by the conversation, and I got up and moved closer to the door." Trevor wiped his face again.

"Go on," Kent urged.

"The whole lot of them were quiet for a moment--like they were all thinking. Then Mr. Davies spoke up. He said, 'It might be our only choice, you know.' And Mr. Newton said, 'Be serious, Davies, we can't solve our problems that way.' And Mr. Gibson said, 'Why not? They've done so much damage to the Crown's integrity, God himself couldn't repair it, rather like Humpty Dumpty. It would be a bloody miracle if we put him together, but if she dies, there'll be a good deal of sympathy for His Highness--for the whole royal family, for that matter.' They were all quiet for a few moments, then Mr. Gibson spoke again. 'It would solve many touchy problems.' He said, 'The Prince could get remarried. If he does it right this time, in a few years, nobody will remember the mess he made of his first marriage.' Then they all talked quite low for another ten minutes and left."

"Did they know you were in your office?" Kent asked.

"I don't know. That's what frightens me." Trevor ran the handkerchief over his face again--twice. "When I was leaving, I ran into Mr. Newton. He asked me if I was working late. I told him I had forgotten my umbrella and had only just returned to get it. I'm not sure he believed me. That's what worries me."

Kent leaned back in his chair. It was an interesting story. Certainly more interesting than any he was likely to hear before the whole thing was laid to rest, but he saw it as little else. "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about, but we'll certainly look into this matter. If you hear anything else, you will contact me, won't you?"

Looking bewildered, Trevor patted his face with his handkerchief. "That's all?" he asked.

"Yes," Kent replied. "We will keep you posted, of course."

Inspector Kent was in his office early. It had been more than two weeks since the accident and the looneys had crawled back into their holes, or whatever it was they crawled out of. The mishap had been ruled just that, an accident. Case closed. Kent had a full schedule, and the looneys had only served to detain him. He picked up a folder that had been handed him when he first came in. It was another homicide. When he opened the folder, the crime scene photo displayed the deceased man. His face looked vaguely familiar. He could not quite place it, so he flipped to the paperwork.

Kent pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his face. He recognized the name at the top of the homicide report: Trevor Shaw.