There she was again the one holding the last piece, the keys to the gate of truth, he was as sure of it as someone who can't read minds could ever be. All he had to figure out was how to crack her shell. Pushing and pulling wouldn't be enough on their own, he risked her retracting into herself. Any wrong move could cause her to run away like the first time. A queen dressed as a pawn, in a board where each piece was playing their own game, including the one seeing himself as the player.

"Miss Camden," he started, then paused. She looked at him, no fiber of her being moved. "Do you think it was an accident?" In the eternity of that moment of silence, he caught himself holding his breath, as if it helped him not ruin his chance.

"Well, you said it was yourself, if I recall correctly."

"Yes, but what is your opinion?"

"Why do you ask me so?"

She had one foot out of the door already. His voice showed a slight tremble in the beginning, caused by a mix of excitement and anxiousness, when he spoke again: "You're his next of kin, it is only fair that if you desire this investigation to end, it should."

"I'm not a detective. That is your job. How should I know if my brother James's death was an accident?"

"There is no need to be a professional, any one with a bit of intellect can take an educated guess, and you have more than enough, I believe."

"You don't know me, but I suppose I should thank you for the compliment, if it's meant to be one. If it is some sort of joke, it is in poor taste."

"Oh Miss, I wouldn't dare be so rude, so inappropriate at such a delicate time. I was making a simple observation, that's all."

"What do you really want from me, Mr. Alderton?"

"All I want is for you to answer my question." That deep gaze peered into the mirrors of his soul with unmatched intensity; not for a second he looked away, not for a second he was too uncomfortable to keep going. He relished in the fact that it was all for him, now.

"I find this to be a rather strange situation. If it is an accident, it's a hardly believable one."

"See, that's what I've been thinking. Pardon my insensitivity, but dying by a falling bookcase doesn't happen much, both as an accident and as not one. No one around here seems to have a strong enough motive for it to be murder, anyway."

"So Mr. Davenport is not a suspect?"

"Should he be?"

"Everyone else seems to be convinced of his guilt."

"I'm not easily swayed. I prefer evidence and observation."

"What's your observation on him, then?"

He leaned forward to whisper: "He doesn't have it in him to pull off such a subtle action." In that instant, Alderton could have sworn that he saw one corner of her mouth move upward; she turned her head enough to hide that side of her face. That was it: he had her. "Miss Camden, I know that you did not go into the garden from the main entrance. Why did you hide that from me? I'm not accusing you of some kind of horrid mischief, still, I can help you in whatever is going on only if you tell me the truth. If you lie again, I will eventually find out, so please save us both some time."

Her eyes moved to him, then down to her lap, where the hands were neatly placed one on top of the other. She took a deep breath. "When I got out of the ballroom I had the intention of using the main gate to the garden, and take in some fresh air. Too bad I saw Mr. Davenport exiting the house coming from the left corridor. I don't think he saw me, I'm not even sure he realized anyone was there. I knew something was off, so I followed the direction he had left from. The door of the study was ajar. I opened it to take a look. It was messy, every paper that should have been on the table was on the floor, as well as many objects. I immediately started to pick all up, with the thought that the scene would make him look guiltier, because I already knew it couldn't have been him, not on purpose. I needed only to fool whoever investigated, I believed I could reason with Felix even if he recognized his belongings had been rearranged. The unfortunate detail is that I didn't see that it was my brother at first. Well, when I got done, I closed the entrance, and making sure to be quiet, I went into the garden..."

"Through the hidden door in this room, and you stayed there until you heard clamor, to not betray a reaction to the shocking sight before the official discovery."

She looked up again. "Was it all so obvious?" the woman asked with a tinge of disappointment. "I always thought I was good at lying. I guess that, perhaps, people are usually too daunted or uncomfortable to even try to question me. I do not inspire amiability."

He sat back up, his heart beating at an alarming rate. "It's a useful resource, nonetheless. By the way, no, it wasn't obvious at all. I got lucky, to be honest. I haven't worked such a complicated case in a while."

"Thank you. This is not a very comforting fact, though, detective."

"Miss, tell me, why didn't you recognize your brother? Was it the mask alone?"

"No... When I saw him again, I realized he did not have his watch, he had one of Mr. Beckwith's. I'm not sure how it got there..."

The man put a hand in his pocket, took out an object. "Is this his?"

Alice reached out, grabbed it, opened it, touched the internal surface. This time she was smiling without hiding, and her tears were unmistakably real. "Yes, it is. May I keep it?"

"Of course."