“We lost more than half the poison garden, and the plants are crushed and mixed in with the others. We are salvaging as much as we can, but we might have to buy medicinals before winter.”
In a few minutes, Betty had returned with the three gentlemen the Duke had requested. Jonathan hastily finished his meal, then each of them, including the Duke, collected up baskets or boxes of empty food containers. Celeste picked up an empty basket, and filled it, prepared to carry her share.
Once they were away from the work parties, Mr. McOwen asked, “I gather there is a reason for us to assemble, other than carrying back the empty vessels?”
“Yes. Mr. Hammonds sent Celeste with a message. Remember that thing we called the ‘Old Legionnaire’s trick’?”
“I do. Using it, we caught Rory Diggerson sneaking into the fort we made at the bottom of the orchard.”
“Aye. And got into a mort of trouble with both my father and the cook. But it was worth it. I believe that Mr. Hammonds has applied the principle to my study today. I asked him to lock it and not to allow anyone in.”
“Someone tried?” Inspector Ravensgard caught the tenor of the conversation.
“Not only tried, but did. Mr. Hammonds also took the liberty of removing my mail and hiding it, since I had not had the chance to open all of it this morning.”
“Was it indeed something special, Your Grace?” asked Constable McHenry.
“It was. From the tenor of the letter I received from Christopher Hammonds, it contained the answer to a conundrum that has been troubling me. I believe he found something or received an answer that resolves the problem.”
“And you want the dogs?”
“Yes, because I think they might be able to pick up something. I am not sure, but it is possible.”
“Well, we can but see,” Mr. McOwen said. “It cannot hurt to stop by the kennels and collect Gertrude and Fionn. Benny and Brodie are already in the kitchen because the cook thought there might be a rat in the pantry.”
“Oh? Why is that?” the Duke asked.
“Food has been going missing. There are empty plates and crumbs. Once, the fowl that was planned for the head table had been ravaged. That is why you had stew that one night, Your Grace.”
“Well, it was tasty enough. And the Duchess is dismally tired of things that wear feathers.”
“There are some would be glad of a bird or even a rabbit, Your Grace,” noted Constable McHenry. “The parson and Father Jacob have been doing their best to find ways to help those who are struggling, but it was a hard winter and a chilly spring. Both the parsonage and the Gentle Sisters are on somewhat short commons themselves.”
“Constable! Why did you not tell me?”
“Truth be told, I thought you had enough on your plate, Your Grace. You’ve always been open handed with the village. Your feast day contributions have been of great help, and so have the contents of the poor box. We’ve managed, and now that the first crops are coming it, we should manage even better.”
The Duke growled something under his breath, but when Mr. McOwen asked, “Did you comment, Your Grace?” he declined to repeat it.
Mr. Hammonds met them at the top of the servants’ stair, the Duke having come in through the kitchens as was his habit when out in the stables or gardens.
“Your Grace, gentlemen, Miss Singer, if you would all come with me?” He turned and led them at what was, for him, a brisk pace. As it was, Celeste observed that the muscles in the Inspector’s jaw were clenched as he carefully did not overrun the venerable butler.
When they arrived at the study door, Mr. Hammonds first pointed out two dabs of what looked like dough, and a dangling string. Mr. McOwen kept the dogs, Gertrude and her mate Fionn, back so that they would not disturb anything before Mr. Hammonds was ready.
“Dye on the string?” the Duke asked.
“Of course. But who ever it was used a key, not lockpicks. You will notice there are no scrapes or marks on the lock.”
Mr. Hammonds then carefully opened the door, and there, marked out in white flour, was a single neat footprint. It was rather large, clearly a man’s print, but it looked more like a shoe than a boot.
Inside the room, the large wooden box that normally held mail and reports was tipped over and its contents strewn about the floor, and mixed with spilled earth and broken flowers. The vases that Celeste had hidden in the brass flower tub had spilled and the water mixed with the earth to make a muddy mess on the carpet. The tub itself was bent as if someone had kicked it.
“Didn’t find what he was looking for,” Mr. Hammonds said with satisfaction. “I took the liberty of removing all the unopened mail, Your Grace, and I have it safe.”
Inspector Ravensgard studied the old butler for a moment. “Why did you think to remove the Duke’s mail?”
“I’ve told the Duke many times before that this room is not secure. The key is kept in the servants’ hall, so locking it only keeps people who are not familiar with the castle out of it. Still, it has served a purpose, I believe.”
