Unsurprisingly, perhaps, no-one overslept the following morning.

When the guests awoke and emerged from their rooms, the servants who had been given the duty of keeping a watchful eye throughout the night helpfully directed people to the dining room where, despite the upheavals, a full English breakfast had been set out for everyone on the sideboard.

Fortunately, everyone not already staying at the castle had brought with them day clothes to change into (for their journey home after the party) so no-one was forced to wear evening clothes to breakfast.

Colin and the Rector were the first down to breakfast. Oswald and Lucinda joined them soon afterwards. The mood was subdued.

Mary appeared at the door some time after her husband, though the extra time had apparently not been spent in perfecting her appearance. While neat, her hair had an unruly curl in more than one place, and while clean, her face was free of make-up. She sat next to the Rector, giving him a pale smile and a pat on his hand...

And her face flushed when her fingers left powdery black prints on his skin.

"Oh, darling, I'm sorry... I'm just all askew this morning..." She wet her napkin in her glass and dabbed at his hand, taking away the offending marks.

Mr. Quinn was also customarily an early riser, and arrived in the dining room in between the two groups already mentioned. After partaking of the food, he sat quietly for a time, composing his thoughts on the events of the night before.

Zap came downstairs. In respect for the general mood, he quietly helped himself to a hearty breakfast, then came and sat down with the others.

Mabel Tawney was also there, but relatively unobtrusive - though she renewed her offer to record statements if it was thought necessary.

Into this atmosphere Lord Eversham arrived, with his sister just behind. His shirt was pressed, his tie straight; his face cleanshaven and his movement lithe and assured. Yet his greetings were merely terse, and the heaviness with which he sat himself at table, after picking out a lean breakfast, carried with it a somber air.

His sister sat across from him, and could barely summon a soft, "Good morning," to the room at large.

Zap smiled back at her, trying to be reassuring, and returned, "Good morning."

A pale, heavy-eyed Selina slipped into the room a moment later. Her wardrobe tended toward the eyecatching; as if to acknowledge her difficulty finding suitable dress for a new widow, she wore a bulky gray wool shawl over her shoulders.

Before she picked up a breakfast plate, she leaned over Zap's chair and reached into her sleeve. "It's still a little damp," she said, pulling out his handkerchief. "I put it in my little hand-basin to soak before I went to sleep. Mrs. Bannister or Mrs. Skeffington-Nottle must have taken it out, but it didn't quite dry. Thank you, Zap. It was ever so sweet of you."

"It was the least I could do for an old friend," he said quietly. "I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk before...all this happened. How are you?"

"Remember that dress rehearsal? The one where I choked and accidentally left out half a scene? And the director tore into me for half an hour afterwards? Like that."

"After you left, Map tore into him ... I'm not sure you ever knew that."

Willie came in moments later. He was in dark slacks and a relatively somber pullover. "There you are," he said to Selina. "I just went in to check on you..." He smiled gently at her. "You didn't need to come down. I was going to arrange for a tray."

Her eyes got big and round. "Oh, no, I didn't want to stay in my room all by myself!" She put one hand over her heart to calm herself down, and mustered a small, brave smile first for Will and then for the rest of the room. "Besides, everyone has already done so much for me -- and this will be such a hard day. I'll just find a corner and stay in it, out of everyone's way."

Her brother poured himself a cup of coffee from the sideboard, and helped himself to some breakfast. "So... a new day. And, to be honest, nothing seems any clearer."

"If no-one objects," said Colin, in a tone that suggested that he would think poorly of anyone who did so, "I'll ask Davis MacKenzie to join us. He's a useful man in a tight spot - we went through the War together. At least - until the point when I was blown up; it was Davis who got me back behind the lines alive. His commonsense will be invaluable."

If Davis had other qualities that would make him useful, Colin did not bother to mention them.

Davis was awake with the servants, and in the kitchen or the pantry or somewhere behind the scenes, waiting to be needed. Davis had dressed in a sweater and rough pants. He was wearing boots and had a bag and his fiddle case in a kitchen corner.

"Ah, there you are, Davis ," said his aunt Shona, when she came upon him in the main kitchen. "You will be breakfasting with me in the housekeeper's room."

It was a command that admitted no argument.

"And I daresay you'll keep better company over breakfast than that Sassenach butler the Laird saw fit to employ," she went on. "He'll be asleep for an hour or so yet, and very sorry he'll be for himself when he awakes."

She ushered him into her room, a modestly furnished but cosy bolthole.

RHIP and CSMs jump when RSMs give orders. Davis thanked his aunt and followed her.

"I've made the enquiries you were wanting," she said quietly. "Mr Rendell was present all the time - Strachan and Ewan were watching him throughout - fearful of giving offence and finding themselves turned off. It has not been a happy house since the new Laird came, Davis .

She sighed - and then went on to explain that each of the servants was able to vouch for others. It was possible that these strictly reared sons and daughters of the Kirk were lying to protect each other - but highly unlikely.

It seemed, therefore, that the servants were in the clear.

"'Tis a bad business, and no doubt about it, Aunt Shona. They'll be hangings for this crime, and if we're not careful, it may be blamed on MacKenzies. I don't even want to see Rendell hanged, unless he did it. And I'd hate to see some foolish cousin o' ours try to pawn a ten thousand pound antiquity in the port of Oban , to pay for drinks. .. or gaming debts."

His aunt patted his hand sympathetically. "Aye, Davis . I know."

"If your lasses or the lads hear o' anything, have them let you or me know. I think I'm about to be drafted back into the service, as it were, for the duration of the emergency. Ye' know I am a MacKenzie, Aunt Shona, I will do all I can for any of us."

Davis waited a moment. "If one of the lads fancies a walk in the snow, my father should hear about this, if only to prevent agitation over the news I spread yesterday about the late Laird's plans."

Shona MacKenzie made a soft noise that sounded like "Wishta!"

"The way the snow is coming down, there'll be no stirring from the castle today, Davis ."

Davis nodded, having expected that answer. "When it clears should be soon enought. They'll not be coming with pitchforks and tar and feathers before then, anyhoo."

In due time, Dr. Bannister and his wife made it down the stairs to breakfast. David clearly had not slept well, with dark circles around his eyes, and a slightly sleepy mien to his gait and movements.

He was very glad that he had brought day clothes to the castle or else he would feel more out of sorts. He patted his wife's arm languidly and offered to help serve her breakfast.

Patience appeared no better rested than her husband, dark eyes wide and watching everyone as they joined the others for breakfast. Her day clothes were plain and simply made, sombre and utilitarian. She seems disinclined to converse this morning, and eats only lightly before pushing her plate way.

Dr. Marsden entered the room at that moment, looking a bit on the tired side. Gone was the rather heavy makeup of last night, and in fact she appeared rather tanned for someone in this climate. She was dressed in a pair of work pants and a heavy brown sweater. She served herself a plate of breakfast and coffee and sat down near the windows. "Any news of last night?" she asked as she started to eat.

Garreth made his way downstairs, in ill humour. He had lost the jacket and tie, but the shirt still seemed relatively clean. He headed straight for the tea which he took with a bit of lemon and no sugar.

Dr. Campbell headed downstairs towards the library before joining the others in the dining room, a thoughtful look on his face. Greeting the footman, he instructed the man to take note of all his movements, and proceeded to look for a book on a subject he was not overly familiar with.

He then joined the others at breakfast and greeted all assembled with a subdued, "Good morrow, all."

He seemed to be oblivious to the awkward conversations around him; his nose was buried in a book borrowed from the library.

As the doctor perused the pages, he frowned, but then turned towards the back of the book. He mentally compared the seeds found in MacKenzie-Brown's mug to those depicted on the page before him. Then he recalled a statement made by the Rector's housekeeper, just before she left the party.

"MacKenzie-Brown's death fits the symptoms of yew poisoning. Several of the wreathes contained yew." He said aloud.

To anyone interested, Campbell showed the following passage from the Herbology text he had been reading throughout breakfast.

'Taxus baccata Linnaeus
Common Names
European, English, or common yew

The foliage and seeds contain several alkaloids, in particular taxine, very poisonous, which alters to hydrotaxine by hydrolysis. Also one glucoside, taxicatine. The wood, bark, foliage and seeds are toxic. The foliage is the principal source of taxine. Old and desiccated foliage are more poisonous than young and fresh foliage. Poisoning is frequent in animals. Horses, asses and mules are extremely sensitive and can be killed in less than one hour. Rabbits, guinea-pigs and cats are insensitive to taxine. In humans, the yew generates digestive, nervous, respiratory and cardiovascular disorders which can result in death. Symptoms include excitation, hyperventilation, and tachycardia, followed by deceleration of the heart, hypotension, nausea, stomach pains, cramps, giddinesses, colic, violent diarrhoea, dizzy spells, convulsions, coma and death.'

"You would have been better served with a veterinarian. An animal doctor would have put this together sooner, if yew poisoning is indeed what killed him. That appears likely from his symptoms." Will Campbell said apologetically.

"Oh my..." Dr. Marsden said thoughtfully, coffee cup in hand. "I hate to ask the obvious, but is it definite it was a deliberate poisoning?"

"I would say so." Campbell answered. "I doubt the Laird took it upon himself to place toxic yew seeds in his own cup.

"Assuming we are correct on the method - the how?, the most important questions remain: who - and why?"

"What is that on your hand, dear?" asked the Rector his wife mildly.

"Ribbon," Mary admitted, her voice soft as she continued to dab. "I brought my spare in the car. I couldn't sleep, so I brought it out to soothe my nerves." She looked up, her eyes skittering across the table, as her tiny tremble spoke the worry no doubt anyone else had... Was it one of them?

Dr. Campbell coughed uncomfortably. "If whoever crushed the yew berries used their bare hands ... there would be purplish stains that would be extremely difficult to wash off."

"Was anyone wearing gloves last night before dinner, but not afterwards?" Patience asks softly, speaking from near her husband, where she remains, watchful and listening as always. "Perhaps something might remain, near the wreaths, which would show the stains."

"I was," Dr. Marsden answered candidly. "I took off my gloves to eat dinner. I believe I left them on the small table next to where I was eating. I left them there when I was inspecting the books in the library and the antiquities in the armoury. They should still be there... I didn't collect them last night. There were other distractions," she said with a black humour.

"Perhaps we could all start with a 'show of hands'. I doubt even Lord Eversham would find such a procedure inordinately invasive, under the circumstances." Will Campbell added.

Mary looked up from her careful work, her face too blank to register even the slightest of reactions. Then her brow crinkled, and her delicate, plain features took on an angry tint. "Ribbon," she said again, and rose, crossing around the table until she stood before the good doctor's side. "From my typewriter. It's powder, not juice." She held her hands out to him, so he might see it was true. "And they're from this morning, not last night."

"Mary, I apologize." Dr. Campbell stood, then dabbed a cloth napkin in some water. "May I?" He made to use the cloth to wash the black powder off her hands, just to make sure there was nothing hidden underneath!

"I agree completely," said Mary, her tone curt, and her hands still before her. "And for the record, I was wearing my wrist high silk gloves with the pearl latch. Save for some sauce, you'll find them in perfect condition."

Unfortunately, no matter how carefully he dabbed, the reaction of water with the powder was to create a paste that stained the skin. Using it dry merely smeared the ink into the skin. It was quite impossible to establish whether there were other, older stains under those left by the typewriter ribbon.

The same, of course, applied to the Rector's hand where his wife had grasped it.

Mary sighed as the mess grew and grew. "This is silly... Some soap might help. But it might be worth asking... How much yew is poisonous? Wouldn't the juice getting on the skin make the person sick?"

"I am sorry Mary. I don't enjoy suspecting my neighbours of this crime," Campbell gave the Reverend an apologetic glance as well, "but at least if you can wash off the ribbon stains, you and David may be cleared of unwarranted suspicion. But as much as we may find it distasteful, anyone who was in the library at dinner could have committed this foul deed.

"And actually, the fruit itself is non-toxic, so the juice would not be harmful. Its the seeds and other parts of the yew that are poisonous."

"May I point out this line of questioning assumes the seeds were somehow pulled from the wreaths here in the castle?" Dr. Marsden said pointedly. "There are yew trees on the island. That's where I believe the yew for the wreathes were collected. I remember seeing a yew tree at the cemetery, in fact. Near one of the dig sites the Laird had ordered," Sandra said as she speared a sausage on her fork.

"So the seeds could have been collected long ago, and brought with the intent to kill the Laird," Patience mused in her quiet voice. "Which would mean that the murder was planned... and not an act of sudden fury." She nodded, thoughtfully... "But it still could be either idea."

She fell into silence, her expression turning inward to some inner thought.

"Yes, but this morning I took the liberty of inspecting the wreaths." Campbell admitted. "And it's clear that the seeds were torn from a rather sloppily made wreath that remains hanging in the library."

"Has anyone else seen this wreath?" Sandra asked pointedly. "I mean... are you the only one who's seen it? I though we were doing teams as we investigated possible evidence?" she said, arching an eyebrow as she looked at Dr. Campbell.

"The footman- Ewan, I believe? - was in the library with me, and I he was stationed there all night. He can attest that I did not tamper with the wreath myself." Campbell seemed nonplussed by Professor Marsden's implication.

Dr. Marsden nodded in acknowledgement. "All right.. Ewan was your witness. Is there any evidence aside from the missing seeds that the wreath is the source of the poison?" she asked bluntly, putting her plate to one side.

"We can adjourn to the library and you, and all assembled, can judge for yourselves." Campbell pointed out. "I can only add that the old and desiccated foliage is more poisonous than young and fresh foliage. That also indicates that the seeds would have come from a pre-made wreath rather than recently plucked berries."

Davis stepped in to the dining room at that point.

"Yew! Yes, those are poisonous. I've not seen anyone actually eat yew, but I've been told. How long would it take for the poison to take effect Doctor Campbell? Can ye' say if it was done early or near the end?"

"Not without an autopsy." The doctor admitted. "But according to the text, the effects can be seen rapidly (within minutes), though occasional cases were documented of symptoms not occurring for 3 or 4 days. However, in this case, I'm certain the poison was administered in the Laird's mulled wine, which he drank at dinner, since that is where Dr. Bannister and I found the yew seeds."

"I had gloves on all night, my little lace ones," Selina added. "The right one got a wine stain somehow. And I -- I took the wreaths when people brought them in. I might have gotten some berry-juice on my gloves. By accident. I'm not sure."

"Perhaps the doctor could take a look at your hands," suggested Oswald.

His own and Lucinda's were clear of any stains.

"But I was wearing evening gloves," he added. "They're in my room."

"Mine are lace," said Lucinda. "If I had got berry stains ... well, it would have leaked through, I think."

Selina nodded, and held up her own hands. Aside from the shell-pink polish on her nails, they were clean as new-fallen snow.

Zap's hands were also clean. He showed them without comment.

Oswald looked at her hands thoughtfully.

"That's odd," he said. "I would have thought you would have had stains ... from accepting the wreathes ... You must have been jolly careful how you handled them."

"Well, I was!" Selina exclaimed, and then blushed as tardy understanding struck her. "I tried to hold by the wires, underneath, after the first one or two," she explained in a lower voice, "because the wreaths were prickly as porcupines. And I did my hands this morning when I woke up; they were all puffy and the prickle-places hurt. My gloves are still in my room; I would have washed them, but I had to do Zap's handkerchief. You can send somebody for them if you want."

Willie took her hands in his and held them out towards Oswald. "Look at them. She's telling the truth. You can see where the wreaths pricked her skin. Selina's always had to be careful with her skin." His own hands were clean. "As for me, I took my gloves off and put them in my pocket at some point. I'm not used to them... not the fashion in our circles for men to wear them..." He shrugged. "They're upstairs somewhere, maybe still in my pocket."

Oswald looked fixedly at the hands - and at the hands holding them.

"Yes," he said slowly. "Yes ... I see."

"So we either send the servants upstairs to retrieve all the gloves, if we agree none are suspects, or we designate three of us to do so." Dr. Campbell suggested.

Davis MacKenzie, who has been standing by the door to the kitchen, cleared his throat. "Your pardon, sirs."

"I had my breakfast with Mrs. MacKenzie this morning. Mrs. MacKenzie the housekeeper," he explained. "While I am sure you gentlemen will want to take statements, Rendell was accompanied by two footmen a'most the entire evening, and they saw him commit neither murther nor theft. Doctor, Miss Tawney mentioned that you might use her recording equipment to take statements, if that would be of use for the inquest to come.

"If you'd like, I can go have Mrs. MacKenzie gather any articles from the rooms that you'd like to see. I'm sure she'd make quick work o' it."

"It might be worth having her with us," suggested Oswald. "As someone independent."

"I'll get her, sir." Davis turned and opened the door, returning to the
kitchen and off towards his Aunt's room.

Garreth showed clean hands to the doctor. "I'd be happy to accompany anyone to do so," he said.

"I'll come," said Oswald, "and Quinn - we might need to make sketches. Would you come too?"

At long last, Mr. Quinn spoke. "Certainly. The pen, ink pad, and paper are still up in my room, but they can be retrieved easily enough.

"In order - I've got a couple of India ink stains on my hand from trying to preserve some pictorial evidence, though I believe that Mr. Skeffington-Nottle can attest to their having been clean prior." He held up his right hand, whose thumb and first two fingers showed a few blue-black spots around the tips.

"The next question is, why? His plans for the island, his flaunting tradition, the missing Cross?" Garreth asked to the group.

"Men have been killed for less before," said Oswald.

"Motive? Any of the above would have worked, though my money's on either his plans for the island or the Cross," said Quinn.

"It's trite but .. the use of the yew may have symbolic significance." Dr. Campbell offered. "MacKenzie-Brown's plotted to change traditions on Verrisay, including the economy. The yew is part of ancient celtic tradition itself: it was used in many ways by various religions and was held sacred by pre-Christian culture. Its use to kill MacKenzie-Brown may have seemed romantic or ironic to the murderer."

"Hard to imagine anyone finding murder romantic," Will St. Pierre said. "It certainly didn't seem romantic to Douglas."

"Or opportunistic, sir. British Army survival training was very firm about yew. The berries were edible, but the seeds were poisonous. Although the seeds could be swallowed whole and do ye' no harm. All o' us who served would most likely have had that or similar training."

"I don't recall anything about yew during my stint with the Corps of Engineers," said Quinn thoughtfully, "but perhaps that's simply because I was in South Africa the entire time. It's also been 35 years, and the only thing I used the Army for was the money to attend University, so that may have something to do with it, too."

"Or revenge..." The words were out of Mary's mouth before she could recall them, and by the look on her face, she looked very much like she would have wanted to. "Or... Well, we're all rather focusing on large things, like money, or change, or..." In her hands, her napkin twisted. "It could have been personal.

"Gentlemen, I know the people of this village. They are a good lot. They would not kill over a change in the economy, and not on this holy day."

"Anyone might kill," said Oswald sombrely, "if he believed his - or her - livelihood threatened."

"Perhaps if someone could bring some soap," Mary said softly, looking about for anyone who might be free to leave. Her face had softened again, and her tone as well. "I ... think leaving would only brew up more suspicion. I would rather this be nipped now."

"I'll go," said Lucinda, rising to her feet. "Would someone like to come with me?"

"I'll join you," Patience offered, squeezing her husband's hands and then letting go. She stood, offering her hands for view before joining Lucinda, showing that they were clean, with somewhat roughened skin that was certainly not a stranger to work.

At this point, David Bannister raised his hands as well. Hands that had worked hard under a tropical sun for years. Clean, but clearly having seen much use, like his wife's, no stranger to work.

A check of Mabel Tawney's hands also revealed nothing unusual.

Josette held up a pair of highly manicured, unblemished hands.

"The gloves I wore last evening are on my bureau," she added

"I'll come, also," Dr. Marsden said, putting her coffee down. "We can collect my gloves from the library as well," she said standing up.

"Oh... and since we seem to be curious about such things..." She held up her hands, front, then back, to show tanned, weathered, but unstained hands.

Davis knocked on his aunt's door.

Although busy with laundry lists, his aunt at once agreed to return with Davis to the dining room.

"After all," she said, "it is our Christian duty to see that the unrighteous do not prosper in their wickness, Davis."

"Yes, Aunt Shona, you are, as always, right. You may want to have the maids check the towels and sheets for purple stains. Doctor Campbell says he was poisoned with crushed yew seeds. Although I suppose the murderer might have used two spoons to crush it. Anything your staff sees that has a yew berry stain on it would be useful to know of, Aunt Shona."

Davis opened the door to the dining room for his Aunt.

"Mr.Arthur, would you also be so kind as to let us examine your hankerchief?" Dr. Campbell asked the actor before the groups split.

With a shrug, Zap handed it over immediately.

The doctor examined the hankerchief carefully, held it to his nose briefly, nodded, then handed it back to Zap. "Thank you, Mr. Arthur."

Campbell prepared to accompany the ladies to the library to examine the wreath.

Davis had been struck by the thought that the villagers mght be under suspicion.

"Indeed, a'though I think I was the only villager left by the time it happened, if the Doctor has kennet the timeline aright. And my whereabouts were well known tae all, as I was playing for his pleasure. We're also a conservative lot, sir. We'd a meeting planned to discuss our options for th' evenin'. I'd no' imagine any of us would have jumped the gun, as it were. An' we laik as no' would have used nothing more menacing than a lawyer tae defend oursel'. I dinnae reckon that twas one o' us."

Davis looked at the table, and the morning dishes. "Yew seeds aren't poisonous if they're swallowed whole. Something was used to cut or grind or crush them. If no, then the assassin would've been takin' a right chance that his deadly poison would no' even be noticed. Still, it could have been any two hard objects that crushed it. Twa spoons or a knife, or even a cup and saucer.

He looked back at Colin. "I dinnae know if it'd be any help, but it micht be possible to find what was used tae ready the poison, if we look, especially if we can see wha' shape the remaining seeds are in tae determine wha' was done tae them."

"Perhaps, Davis, you should check the kitchen - and any dishes left in the library," suggested Colin. "Although ... someone had best go with you ... "

He glanced around the breakfast table at those wheo were left.

"Willie and I can go," Selina offered. "If Mr. MacKenzie doesn't mind."

Her brother nodded. "That's fine. Probably a good idea to keep busy, in any event..." He looked concerned, but calm.

Josette leaned in towards Will St.Pierre discreetly whispering into his ear, "If I might have a moment to speak with you alone? There is something bothering me..."

Will St Pierre and Josette Bellesur made their way off together, leaving Davis and Selina to make their way together to the kitchen.

They left Zap in the dining room, thoughtfully eating another helping of breakfast and wondering if anyone in his wide circle of friends and acquaintances might be of help. If he could reach anyone at all... Was there a telephone, he wondered?

The footman replenishing the kippers shook his head regretfully. "Not on the island, Sir, although I understand they do have it now on the mainland, at Oban, and a wonderful thing it is too," he said.

End of Chapter 9

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