Dr Campbell went with Lucinda, Patience and Sandra into the library.

It was rather a depressing sight in the cold light of day. There were glasses and plates on all the tables (only those that could have been used by the deceased had been removed. and the servants had left the rest until they were told they could clear the room. The fire had burned low in the grate, lacking the great Yule log that still sustained the fire in the Great Hall). Several wreathes had been hung here, and now, instead of looking festive and jolly, they looked a little funereal.

There was no sign of Professor Marsden's gloves on the table where she had left them.

"So, professor, whay d'ye think happened to yuir gloves?" asked the doctor.

Sandra looked around the table where she'd left her gloves. Under her breath it seemed she was cursing in another language. "Well... this is bloody marvelous," she finally said in English. "I took them off so I wouldn't spill wine on them. Isn't that an irony," she said sardonically.

"Are you sure they're nowhere around?" asked Lucinda.

Sandra looked back at the table where her gloves had been. "I hope... maybe one of the maids picked them up..." she said.

Lucinda looked around the area and they gave an excalamation. "Were they white? Silky?"

"Yes!" Sandra confirmed, coming over to look at whatever Lucinda staring at. "Have you found them?"

Lucinda silently pointed to the fireplace. Amidst the ashes, half a white silk ladies' glove was lying (albeit in a slightly large size).

Sandra frowned and kneeled down next to the fireplace to look at them, not reaching out to touch them. "That would appear to be mine," she said glumly.

Dr. Campbell grabbed a poker and began stirring up the ashes, looking to see if any other remnants of the gloves might be found.

"Well Professor Marsden, it looks as if someone wanted to dispose of these gloves. I can only think of one reason why..." He observed.

The gloves were indeed Sandra's. The left one had fallen slightly to the left of the fire. The fingers seemed to be a little stretched, and it was half-pulled inside out, as though it had been jerked off (and possibly pulled on) in a hurry. The palm had been burned away, although the back was still intact, and three of the fingers were missing. The thumb was still there, however, and beneath the soot appeared to have a purple stain.

The right glove had been thrown more directly into the flames. All that survived wwere two fingers and a cscrap of the back, already charred to lint, so that any attempt to retrieve them resulted in their crumbling away to ash.

"It would seem to support your theory, Dr. Campbell," Sandra observed. As the doctor moved the ashes away from the burnt glove, Sandra nodded. "Yes... that was indeed mine."

She stood, grimaced. "Someone here owes me 4 quid," she said with a black humor.

"Which was the wreath you thought had been disturbed, Dr Campbell?" asked Lucinda.

The young footman set to guard the room (Gordon MacKenzie) watched with some curiousity.

Dr. Campbell led them to the wreath he had identified earlier.

It was still there - and they could all clearly see that it had been wreched a little out of shape, as though it had either been carried carelessly, or someone had given it a sudden and unexpected tug. In one place, the greenery looked a little denuded, as though something had been pulled away - but not very much.

"I know this wreath!" said Lucinda. "Patience - don't you recognise it? It's one that we brought from the Rectory. And yes, there were certainly more berries than this on it when we brought it!"

Patience nodded. "Most definitely!" She crouched down, looking on the floor beneath it, and around it. "Depending on where the berries were taken might give us an idea who took them," she suggests as she looks. "And it doesn't look like someone tried to be particularly neat. So I'd expect there to be greenery or other berries on the floor. Oh!" She sits back, looking up at the others. "And if someone dropped them, someone might have stains on their shoes from stepping on them as well... and while they'd have thought of their hands, they wouldn't have thought of their shoes, I'm certain. No one ever thinks about what they're tracking on their shoes," she says with the certainty of one who has seen all manner of things tracked about.

Sandra looked up at the wreath, still a bit out of sorts about her gloves. "Well... unfortunately we've all done a bit of stomping around here. The rug is almost certainly ruined from the wine and the pudding last night. Yet it is worth looking around." She carefully stepped back from the area around the wreath, the better
to let Patience and Lucinda examine the area.

"So... doctor?" Sandra turned to Dr. Campbell. "If I understand you correctly, you believe the... berries were taken from the wreath, and then the seeds were taken from the berries? Or would the pulp of the berry have gone into the wine as well, if it is indeed the wine that poisoned him?"

"The berries would na poison him; it had ta be the seeds. The berries could have been ground up with the seeds though; it would na make a difference." Campbell replied.

While the doctor answered, Lucinda examined the carpet. As Sandra suggested, it was badly stained. However, on the basis that it was worth following all leads, she sent Ewan to the kitchen with instructions to see that no shoes were cleaned until they had been examined.

"So..." Sandra said pragmatically. "My gloves do definitely support hypothesis of the yew berry poisoning." She leaned against the desk and crossed her arms. "I suppose the next step is to take the wreath and the remnants of the gloves and take them to the drawing room for the others to see. And to see who has hands that are the same or smaller size as mine... Does that sound reasonable?" she asked glumly.

"Or possibly slightly larger," pointed out Lucinda. "Those fingers look slightly stretched - although I suppose it would be the result of pulling them off quickly ... if someone did have smaller hands, I mean!" she added hastily.

Patience is sitting on the floor, then pushes herself to stand. "I was thinking something similar, about the larger hands," she spoke thoughtfully. "Dr. Marsden, when did you take off your gloves? That would tell us when they were taken, at the earliest, and when the berries were taken from the wreathes... was there enough time in the darkness that anyone could have moved to the wreathes and away, do you think, or would it have to have been someone standing close already?"

"I... took them off soon after I came into the library," Sandra told them. "Garreth... Mr. Warren brought me a glass of wine."Sandra shook her head ruefully. "I'm afraid I was still so angry, my hands were shaking. So... I took them off so I wouldn't spill wine on them accidentally. If they took my gloves soon after then... almost an hour, maybe?"

"As for the wreaths..." Sandra frowned as she looked up at the suspect greenery. "I don't... remember... I.... think it was fine when I toured the books. At least I don't remember it standing out as being disturbed. But I was looking more at the books and the art rather than the seasonal decorations," Dr. Marsden confessed.

"I think we ought to request to have that recording from last night played back." Dr. Campbell said suddenly, stroking his chin. "I'm going to see that Ms. Tawney."

Campbell headed for the Drawing Room.

Patience looked to Sandra and Lucinda."I'd be interested in hearing the recording as well." She moves to follow Dr. Campbell.

Sandra nodded still staring at the remnants of her gloves. "There may be some useful information... We should probably all listen," Sandra mused, "rather than have just the doctor and Miss Tawney listen and wear out the tape." Dr. Marsden stood up to follow Patience.

Selina looked after thepeople who left the dining room with narrowed eyes for a moment, before she recalled what she was about. She stood up from table and watched Davis MacKenzie, a trifle uncertainly, for a cue to go. No matter how cooperative she was, Davis of all people might yet hate and fear her for her association with Douglas .

Davis opened the door to the kitchen and waited impassively for the freshly-minted widow to go through. If he did not offer her any reassurance, he did not offer any confirmation of her suspicions, either.

Pulling her shawl closer around her shoulders, Selina passed through the door, with a nod and a soft "Thank you, Mr. MacKenzie," as she went by.

Mrs Margot MacKenzie, the cook (and another of Davis ' aunts - but on his mother's side), looked up as they entered, and bobbee a small curtsey to Selina.

"How can I help you, Ma'am?" she asked.

"Mr. MacKenzie is looking for any dishes or silver from the library last night, if they're here and they haven't been washed yet," Selina explained, remarkably concisely. "Could you point us to the right place to look?"

"We're not a' that sure what we're looking for, Aunt Margot," Davis added with a smile for his mother's sister. "It might be a plate or a glass that was used to break up the seeds. It might be a corner of the linens used for the same end. It'd be an odd stain, yew berries are juicy, and red, but ye' might mistake them for other things. If you or any of the maids have any recollection of such a thing, that would also be helpful."

"They're all still in the library, Ma'am," said Margot. "The doctors took the ones that they believed the Laird was using, and told us not to touch the rest ... "

As she was speaking, there was the sound of feet on the stairs and Gordon MacKenzie came into view.

"Mother," he said breathlessly, "upstairs are wanting the shoes checked!"

Then he saw Selina and Davis, and blushed.

"For stains from the berries," he explained. "Although there may be other stains too, it seems."

"Well," said Margot MacKenzie, "all the shoes will have been gathered in the boot room, but Devlin hasn't started on them yet. He was up all night guarding the second floot - I sent to poor wee laddie to his bed!"

"Oh, I'm so glad you did," Selina said impulsively. She turned toward Davis . "Should we go look at the shoes? Or do we need to tell someone about it first?"

"And Dev normal such an early riser." Davis nodded at his aunt. Turning to Selina, Davis said "I believe we should, Ma'am. Tops and bottoms, for what has been spilled on'em and what they ha' stepped on. "

"Aunt Margot, may be borrow Gordon's young eyes?"

"I'm thinking this will be a bit of a wild goose chase, so let's get it done quickly and efficiently, so that it does nae have to be repeated, and then we can get on with more fruitful endeavors, as we'd planned. The guilty party need not have been over his (or her) own boots, after all, especially if the berries were snatched while they were on the move, in the dark for instance."

"We were all everywhere," Selina agreed. "Anyone could have stepped on a berry."

Davis organized the inspection as only a retired NCO could, directing Gordon on what to look for and what to do with potential positives and negatives. Shoes were classified as "stained" or "not stained" and passed to Selina for confirmation. In addition Davis fished inside each boot looking for anything dropped in and checked under lifts and (where possible) inside heels.

Davis made a list, and asked Selina if it was accurate.

"There we are. Four or five false positives. If you are ready to inspect the silver and china, Ma'am, we can send Gordon back with this list."

"This is fine, Mr. MacKenzie. I have to say, I don't really want to go back into the library -- but we have to. Let's get it over with, so it can all be cleaned up."

"Yes Ma'am. Off you go, Gordon. Tell 'em what we did and give 'em the list."

Davis again held the door for the widow.

She returned him the same quiet thanks as before.

Gordon headed for the dining room to inform those who remained there of what had been discovered.

Davis and Selina headed for the library where the untattended plates and cutlery still stood.

"I wonder where Will has got to," she said as they neared the library. "I thought he meant to come with us."

Oswald, Warren and Quinn made their way upstairs with Mrs MacKenzie the housekeeper.

After a moment's thought, David Bannister joined this group.

Their first port of call was Quinn's bedroom to collect his sketching gear.

"You weren't wearing gloves, were you, old man?" asked Oswald. "Were you carrying any in your togs?"

"Just an outdoor set," he replied. "Black leather. Indoor gloves don't particularly go with Highland formal, and Mrs. Mackenzie-Brown didn't indicate that they had any other major events planned."

After they had left Quinn's room, Oswald asked. "Where next?"

Adrian thought for a moment. "I think I'd suggest the Tartan Room, next door. It used to be Douglas ', and I don't remember anybody looking around it last night. After that, I think we should head back down to the end of the hall and work our way across both this and the next floor, mostly seeing what we can find. If you've a better suggestion, I'm open to it, but I think that might be the best way to find stained gloves or linens."

At his suggestion, they headed for the Tartan Room.

There was a locked safe in there. Mrs MacKenzie said she believed that, like the key to the desk in the library, Mr MacKenzie-Brown had kept the key on him at all times. At all events, opening the safe seemed a task that could be left for the moment.

"If nobody has yet, we should probably check the body to find the key to the safe," said Quinn. "There's always a small possibility that the cross is inside."

The room was almost preternaturally untidy., with the clothes kept in almost military shape. Mrs MacKenzie said that Mr M<acKenzie-Brown's usual valet, an Englishman like Rendell, was an old army man. However, he had had his notice in and left just before Christmas. Mr MacKenzie-Brown intended to appoint a new valet in the New Year - over Christmas he had intended to manage with footmen to help (and Ewan had helped him dress on the night of the party).

The only unusual thing about the room was a set of salacious novels, almost verging on the pornographic. It was a sight that shocked Mrs MacKenzie profoundly.

Quinn suppressed a grimace of distaste, but did not comment.

A closer examination revealed that they had all been written by the same author - one E. N. Brownlow - and several had a Scottish setting.

"Who's at the end of the Hall?" asked Oswald as they left the room.

"Miss Belesur, I think," David said. "Yes, I remember, she had the Blue room, which is the end one."

"Who would like to do the honors?" David asked, willing to open the door himself if no one wanted the dubious job themselves.

The gloves were on the dresser, as Miss Bellesur had said. They were quite unmarked.

Her room was rather untidy, with scarves and wraps tossed here and there, and the whole room filled with a delifgtfully heady scent. A jewellery casket stood on the dressing table, locked with a formidable padlock.

"Well at least her gloves are accounted for." David murmured. His eyes then turned to the jewelry box, eyeing the casket with the padlock dispassionately.

Finally he turned back to his companions. "Shall we continue, or shall we fetch her to open the box? I am most definitely not inclined to breaking the padlock."

"We're concerned with gloves at the moment, not the possible robbery. I
think we should continue on," Garreth suggests.

Mr. Quinn opined, "Unless you think she's likely to have a second set of gloves in her jewelry box, I vote we continue. Unless you can think of another reason that we should search the jewelry casket sooner rather than later."

"I agree," said Oswald. "And I think it would be common politeness to ask her for the key anyway ... She can, after all, hardly say no, can she?

"Well, gentlemen - which room next?"

David nodded in agreement.

"Let's continue to search the rooms." he said. David then proceeded out of the room to lead the group to the other rooms on the floor, to look through them in the same manner that they had searched the first, from Green to Yellow and then finally Oak in that order.

He kept his eyes peeled, though, for anything similar to the locked jewelry box, as well as the presence or absence of gloves.

They searched both floors ...

Items of note that they came across ...

In Will St Pierre's room there was a small, framed photograph of a woman, dark-complected, with large eyes and a rather sad look. She had a lot of dark hair done in a rather elaborate style, but her clothes, while neat, were clearly rather cheap and simple. It was an older photo - the fashions suggested it was actually taken ten to fifteen years ago.

Selina's room was elaborately fusnished and decorated. Her jewelry box was also locked, but less aggressively than Josette's. It had glassed-in front doors, so the searchers could see inside it. Her makeup case was not locked, and contained various sorts of variously sharp and poisonous things; she probably used a rather harsh skin-bleaching solution to get the wine and the yew-juice off her hands. Her lace gloves from the night before were on the washstand in her bathroom. They were black lace and smelled strongly of soap.

Garreth made a cursory pass through anything open, but other than looking for gloves, wasn't going to start opening too many drawers, cases, etc.

There was a messy pile of old playbills, sheet music, letters, and newspaper clippings in a drawer on her writing desk, half pilling out. These seemed to contain several hand written letters.

Adrian took a look at the postmarks, as the envelopes were still present. Barring a reason for further suspicion, he did not, however, examine the contents of the letters.

The majority had American postmarks. There was a small bundle, tied up with a red ribbon, that all bore a New York postmark. These all bore the name Selina St Pierre - with the St Pierre crossed out and MacKenzie-Brown written in a firm (and different) hand.

Adrian made a mental note of both of these facts, but did not comment on them. He was particulaly intrigued by the two different hands. Neither appeared to be Douglas 's. The envelopes seemed to be written in an American hand (probably a woman's), but the alteration was in a broad Scots hand - it looked at though the alteration might have been made at the Post Office to ensure delivery.

Zap's trunk contained a number of bizarre things (including a copy of The Three Musketeers, a silver casket and enough props to do some of his more famous routines - including the one about the rubber goldfish), and probably at least one pair of gloves, but these were quite unmarked.

Major Bastable had a document case, unlocked, in his room. It was, however, closed. David Bannister looked at it with interest. Garreth looked over David's shoulder ...

As there was sufficient room for a pair of gloves to be inside, Adrian examined the case long enough to ascertain the presence or absence of same.

There were no gloves inside - but a wodge of documents fell out. David and Garreth both moved to retrieve them and passed them back to Adrian, who returned them to the case and closed it.

Emma Sinclair and Lady Amelia Bellemore's rooms revealed nothing of note. Neither did any of the guests - who were, after all, only staying overnight.

The search of the rooms completed, with nothing incriminating (at least, as regarded the murder) seemingly discovered, Oswald suggested that they should return to the dining room and report.

"May I be excused, then, sirs?" said Mrs MacKenzie, who had accompanied them. "I should see that all is in train for lunch - and if Mr Rendell is awake."

David looked to Garreth and Oswald and then nodded to Mrs MacKenzie.

"Certainly." he said with a smile. "Thank you for your help." The Missionary then turned to his companions and nodded to Oswald. "Let's head back to the dining room and discuss what we've found. Or lack thereof."

Mrs MacKenzie departed, and the group (David, Garreth, Adrian and Oswald) made their way back to the dining room, where Colin MacKenzie, Mary Roberts, Major Oswald Bastable, Lord Eversham, Emma Sinclair and Lady Amelia Bellemore were still gathered.

"What did you find?" Colin asked, but before anyone could answer, there was an interruption.

Quite close, there was suddenly the sound of loud screams coming from the area of the kitchen. And no sooner had these died down than they were suddenly echoed by more screams, coming from the upper reaches of the castle, where the servants' bedrooms were located.

David muttered under his breath in Dutch, paralyzed by indecision for a moment. It was clear that he wasn't sure which one to investigate. His eyes searched the visages of his companions for a few long moments. And then he made a decision.

"I'm going upstairs." he said, finally. The Missionary began shuffling toward the stairs, toward the servants bedrooms.

Colin glanced at the others. "Quickly," he said.

Adrian looked out at the door, noting people's reactions. "We didn't find anything that would appear to incriminate anybody in the murder. There's a locked chest in Douglas ' room that might have the Cross inside it, but the key wasn't anywhere to be easily found. Mrs. Shona Mackenzie says that he kept the key on him at all times, along with the key to his desk.

"I think that we should go see whether his body still has the keys in the pockets someplace, and then check both desk and chest for possible clues. Unless you'd like to go investigate one or both of the screams, that is." Being in the presence of other military veterans was bringing back some of Adrian 's long-forgotten habits - aside from the portfolio tucked under one arm, his pose was recognizably "parade rest."

The door to the kitchen from the outside flew open amidst a swirl of wind and snow. A unidentifiable thickly bundled human shape stomped into the kitchen, closing the door behind it. It paused for a moment, as if catching its breath, and then made its way to the heat coming from the stove.

Upon reaching the warmest place in the room, the form started peeling away the layers of clothing enshrouding it. Eventually Brian Shea was revealed beneath. ""Ye know, the snow isn't that bad, ye just have ta be walking very carefully and slow."

He looked around. If anyone is in the kitchen, Brian said, "After that rotten man had Mr Barfard killed, I knew I had ta be doin' the right thing. I climbed out my window and made my way back home. I couldn't bury Mr Barfard, so I put him into the ice box until we had time ta be givin' him a proper funeral. But poor Mrs Barfard was left all to her own, and I couldn't be havin' that now, so I brought her back with me, so we could mourn the passin' o' her husband together properly....So, did they find the one that killed that horrible man yet? I want ta give them a reward when they do." Mrs Barfard, an even bigger pure black rat peeked out from inside Brian's sweater neck, and wiggled her whiskers luridly.

Mrs Margot MacKenzie let out a scream that would have done credit to a steam train.

"A rat! A rat in my kitchen! Get it out! Get it out get-it-out!"

Brian looked around. There was a rat in here? He held Mrs Barfard tightly to protect her from whatever that woman was screaming about.

The other servants hurried to see what was wrong. One of the maids, clearly feeling that imitation was the best form of flattery, let out a shriek of her own that, emanating from young and powerful lungs, came close to drowning that of the cooks. Another kitchenmaid fainted, sliding under the table.

Brian looked at the reaction with amazment, followed by a grin. This was starting to be more fun than the time Mr Barfard Jr Jr wandered through the girls' dorm at school.

Young Ewan MacKenzie, one of the footmen, pushed his way through the mob. He was in his shirt sleeves, a sign that he was still off-duty.

"Master Shea," he said respectfully, but there was a lurking grin too. "I dinnae ken that the American gentlemen has told you, but I dinnae kill your Mr Barfard last night. I've got him snug and warm in a hutch in the stables to slip back to you before you went home. The American gentleman knows all about it."

Brian's eyes got wide, "Really? Mr Barfard is still alive? Oh thank you, thank you. Now Mr and Mrs Barfard can be together again. I know she missed him terribly. They like to snuggle when the weather gets this cold."

"What's you've got in your ice box is a big rat I found in the stables and kill't so I'd have something to show if the Laird asked me. I never got a chance to tell you last night with all the botheration of the Laird being kill't and all."

"Oh." Said Brian as the truth set in. "Ew." Butthen he grinned, "Oh well, he was probably a good rat and would have been buried unmourned for, if it were not for me.I shall see that he is properly taken care of."

"That's all very well," said Margot MacKenzie. "But now I'll thank you kindly if you'll get that creature out of my kitchen, Master Brian!"

Before Brian could answer, there was another scream - strangely muffled - until they realised that it was coming from a greater distance.

Then one of the bells began to jerk violently jangling through the kitchen as though it was an alarm.

Brian, excited about the resurrectoin of Mr Barfard, was mildly curious about the bell,but decided he had more important things to worry about, and headed for the stables. He would have been content to spend the rest of the day there with his two best friends on the island, but was pulled back into proper company before too long.

Dr Campbell found the kitchen in Chaos, with people agitatedly speculating about the cause of the screams, and surrounding young Brian Shea, a large black rat and his uncle the Rector. Various people were trying to explain simultaneously what had actually happened ... It was clear, however, that nothing too serious had happened in the kitchen ...

Once he found out what the disturbance in the kitchen was, Campbell gave a relieved grin, then headed directly upstairs.

In the dining room, Mary looked up from the job she had made of her hands, her frown growing ever deeper. They were still blotched and grey, but at least the stains of berries were obviously not there.

"Dear?" She looked at her husband, a small frown creasing her face. "Perhaps we could look after those shouts?" Her voice grew smaller. "It can't have happened... again... could it?"

"Quinn, you and I will find these keys," said Colin decisively. " Warren - you'd better see where those last screams came from. Eversham, Skeffington-Nottle - go with him. Rector - head for the kitchen and find out what's happening there. The rest of you - Mrs Roberts - I think we should have a base of operations in the Great Hall ... Can you move people through there and get it organised? And while you're at it - check the wreaths there for damage."

Garreth nodded to Colin. "Sir, yes sir," he said with a smile, heading for the stairs.

Colin gave his second in command a swift, rather tired smile.

"Right," said Eversham. " Warren , Skeffington-Nottle. Ready? Should we get anything, first? Perhaps a doctor? Bannister, Campbell, or Marsden."

"I think that was where Dr Bannister was heading," said Colin, "and I daresay Dr Campbell will not be far behind ... "

Before Sandra and Lucinda could leave the library, the door opened again and Selina and Davis appeared.

"Oh, hello," Selina said. "Maybe we're not needed here, Mr. MacKenzie." She nodded toward the still-laden table. "We looked at everyone's shoes for berry-stains, and we were going to check all the plates and the silver -- but maybe you've done that already?"

Patience, who was standing and about to leave, turned back at their entrance. She smiled at Selina, her expression showing concern for the young widow. "We've been looking at the wreaths and for stains on the floor, but haven't yet checked the silver. It might be best to start with the ones by the fireplace," she looks back at it, thought creasing her brow, "or perhaps in the fireplace. Or see if anything looks like it might have been hurriedly tossed aside. After all, when someone is in a rush, one might throw something anywhere to hide it."

She glanced around the room, looking for drawers or cabinets that might have been used to hide things as well.

"If the poisoner knew enough to use yew seeds, he'd know that they can pass through the body harmlessly unless they're open. Cracked, cut, or crushed, they're deadly, but whole they're harmless. We should look at what's left in the glass and see what shape it's in, and then try to find something that would cause that. They could've been crushed or cut with the tableware, but a'most anything else would do, in a pinch."

Davis looked around. "Which one was the fatal cup?" he asks of no one in particular.

"The doctors took away a couple," said Lucinda, "to check in a sort of lab they're setting up. They thoughtwere the most likely. But they weren't looking for whatever was used to crush the seeds ... "

She started to look through the cutlery too ...

Dr. Marsden stopped and turned back to Patience and Lucinda. "Coming? Or staying?" she asked. "Dr. Campbell is getting ahead of us," she said pointedly. "And at least one of us should stay with him."

"Yes," said Lucinda, "perhaps we'd better. Although I want to see if Mr MacKenzie has had a chance to speak to the butler yet. Does anyone now if he's woken up?"

"Aunt Shona thought he'd be sleeping for a bit more," said Davis, "and then a bit slow to rise, worse for the previous night. I hadnae heard that there's been a change in his status."

"I'll catch up to the doctor," Sandra said. "If any of you leave the library, do go in pairs." With that she exited the library in the direction the doctor went, attempting to catch up with him.

"I'll join you," Patience said. She smiled at Selina and Davis in farewell and then followed quickly after Dr. Marsden, not letting the her go alone.

Selina listened to the suggestions, her eyes alternating between Patience and Davis MacKenzie. When all who were leaving had gone, she went to work -- but she went about it rather differently from anything Patience had said. She rounded the table and picked up every item on it that was clean of any reddish stain, piling those as neatly as could be managed on the sideboard. Everything else she left in place.

What was left when she finished, she and Davis could go through together...

Davis followed her lead, but did not limit himself to plates and spoons. Any item that might crush the seed was inspected: ashtrays, andirons, bells, bookends, candlesticks, etc. If the Lady had the plate well in hand, then he had the rest of the room to cover.

Lucinda carried on checking the china, but soon enough she sighed.

"This is very difficult! Half the table was soaked with red wine - there are purple splashes on half the plates, you know! I wish I hadn't yanked the tablecoth off so precipately now - but, of course, one couldn't know that Mr MacKenzie-Brown was going to be poisoned, could one?"

Davis grins at her. "Did you? That would make all this searching unnecessary, especially if you also knew who'd done it. I think we're best off looking for something that's not so easily explained away, such as yew stains on that plate that someone placed here on the bookshelf." Davis picked up the plate, looking for stains on the top or bottom of it.

It was clean, so he placed it with Selina's pile of other china that passed inspection.

The search was continuing, with the difficulties Lucinda had foreseen when there was suddenly the sound of loud screams coming from the area of the kitchen. And no sooner had these died down than they were suddenly echoed by more screams, coming from the upper reaches of the castle, where the servants' bedrooms were located.

Selina stopped in her tracks halfway between table and sideboard, a cup in one hand and its saucer in the other. Her hands began to tremble; the saucer slipped, fell, and shattered. A look of abject terror fixed itself on her face.

Davis maintained his stoic demeanor. "Shall I go find out what's happened, or would you ladies prefer to come with me?" He finished inspecting the object to hand and returned it to the bookshelf.

Selina groped her way to the nearest chair and fell into it, dropping the cup on the table. The cup, at least, did not break. "Listen -- they're all going -- I don't, I don't want to go! But -- if you have to -- "

For a short moment, Davis let a bit of his emotions slip into his face. He quickly recovered his control and swallowed. "All your servants are my family, ma'am. I'd like to know tha' they're safe, and why someone is screaming. Wi' your permission?"

Selina stood up abruptly, rocking the table. "We aren't supposed to go anywhere alone. Mrs. Skeffington-Nottle, we'd better all go."

Lucinda nodded. "I agree," she said. "But I am also worried at the thought of leaving this room unguarded - I don't think we've necessarily come to the end of our discoveries here ... "

She cast a significant look at the still sealed desk.

"We can't wait for that," said Selina. "It's locked, anyway. Mr. MacKenzie can send someone back -- he knows who to trust."

Selina walked resolutely toward the door, her hands clenched so hard into fists that her nails dug into the heels of her palms.

"I suspect I'll run into others up there," said Davis , "if you two wish to stay here, it would be good to finish this job."

Davis seemed anxious to get to the servant's quarters.

As there were speaking, there were sound of steps outside, and Ewan MacKenzie, the young footman, appeared.

"Aunt Margot spent me to find you," he said to Davis . "The bell in the servant's corridor - it's ringing off the wall! She wants you or Master Colin to check it out!"

Davis nodded once, slowly. "We were just going to do so, Ewan. Please stay here and don't let anyone disturb this room until we get back. I suspect that quite a few of the guests will be headed that way as well."

End of Chapter 10

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