“Pardon me, gentlemen,” came a voice from the doorway interrupting Holmes’s train of thought, “but Miss Iona wishes to know if you need anything and . . . if you have made any progress in discovering who did this dreadful thing to her brother.”

“And who might you be?” asked Gregson with that intimating tone that only members of the constabulary can deliver effectively.

“Pardon, sir, I am John, the butler.”

From the very edge of my vision, I saw Holmes’s head turn uncommonly quickly toward the man standing in the doorway. “You are the butler.” Holmes half asked and half affirmed.

“I am, sir. I have been in the service of the Fenwick family for more than ten years. Indeed, my father before me had the honor of serving the family.” John answered but the tone of his voice was not as filled with pride as his words implied.

“You are, then, your family’s eldest son?” Holmes asked.

“The only son, sir. I have no brothers.”

“As the Fenwick’s butler, then, did you serve the dinner last evening?” Holmes asked.

“Indeed I did, sir.” John answered.

“Can you tell me then . . .”

Before Holmes could continue his interrogation, John added, “Little did I know that it would be the master’s last meal.”

Holmes paused as though to let the butler’s words settle into his mind, then continued, “Can you tell me, then, what was the seating arrangement at the table?”

“Certainly, sir, the master was seated at the head of the table, of course, the mistress at the foot, Mr. Hyl was at the master’s right and Miss Iona and Mr. Ranstad were seated at the mistresses’ right and left hand, as usual.”

“As usual?” Holmes queried, “Were Miss Fenwick and Mr. Ranstad frequently seated at the same dinner table?

“Oh, yes sir,” John answered, “very often.”

“So, Mr. Ranstad was a frequent guest in the house?” Holmes continues.

“Why, yes sir, he was. What one might even call a very freequent house guest.” John explained with just a hint of distaste in his tone.

“I see,” Holmes mused. “And what did everyone do after dinner?

“Well, sir, Mr. Ranstad and Miss Iona went into the music room, Mrs. Fenwick retired to her room upstairs and Mr. Fenwick and Mr. Hyl chatted together for a few minutes and then came into this room together. A few minutes later I was summoned and the master asked me to bring in a glass and some brandy.”

“A glass? Only one? Why was that?” Holmes asked.

“Mr. Hyl never drinks alcoholic beverages, sir.”

“And did you do as Mr. Fenwick asked?”

“Of, course, sir. I went into the music room to fetch the decanter. That is where it is usually kept. I found the decanter to be empty; this was most unusual I might say, but, in any event, I went to the pantry to fetch a fresh bottle, the master kept quite a stock of his favorite brandy there, and returned to the music room to fill the decanter before taking it to the master.”

“You left the empty decanter in the music room when you went to secure a new bottle?”

“Yes, I did, sir.”

“Were Mr. Ranstad and Miss Iona still in the music room at the time?”

“They were, sir.”

After a long moment’s hesitation, Holmes continued, “Then what happened?”

“I delivered the decanter and glass to the study, as I had been instructed then I busied myself with overseeing the setting straight of the dining room. I did overhear Mr. Hyl and the master chatting for a few minutes then heard Mr. Hyl leave the room.”

“Where are Mr. Hyl and Mr. Ransted now?”

John seemed surprised at having been asked, “I must profess ignorance, sir. I assumed that they were being interrogated by members of the constabulary elsewhere in the house.”

Holmes’s eyes narrowed as he asked, “Now this is very important, John, where are the brandy decanter and the glass from which Mr. Fenwick presumably drank last evening?”

“They are not still here?” the butler asked.

“They are not,” Holmes confirmed.

“Then I have no idea, sir. Perhaps one of the other servants removed them last evening. I shall certainly ask each of them.”

“You do that. Please tell the Fenwick ladies that we are in need of nothing more at the moment, but that we shall wish to speak with them later.” Holmes instructed, “That will be all for now.”

With a crisp, “Very good, sir,” John turned and departed.

For several minutes Holmes seemed to slip into a deep study. Eventually, he apparently broke his train of thought and looked up at me.

“You were about to give us your thoughts about the cryptic note,” I reminded Holmes.

“’Thoughts’ would be a most generous label for my speculations, Watson, but I do agree that the note was not written in ordinary ink. We know only that it was written using some crimson fluid and the fact that we have found no blood on, or about, the body of the deceased leads one to wonder from whence might have come a writer’s supply of the blood. I had assumed that there was no blood on or about the body because the wound inflicted on Mr. Fenwick’s wrist had been made elsewhere and the body moved here. Another possibility presents, of course. The wound could have been inflicted postmortem, but to what end, I confess, I cannot fathom. Later we shall subject a sample of the red writing to the test with my hemoglobin-precipitating reagent. That will determine whether blood is involved but, in the meantime, let us concern ourselves with the content of the note. ”

“What do you make of it, Holmes?” I asked.

“Not very much, I fear,” he replied slowly, “’Garland’ is not a word prominent in the average man’s vocabulary. In fact the only association that comes to my mind at all is the title of a book published a few years ago, written by, let me see, I think that American Alcott woman, it was called “A Garland for the Girls,” I believe. Now, we do recall that Mr. Fenwick’s brother, Edgar, had a bit of a legal problem with certain improprieties involving young girls. Although there was never any mention of brother Peter’s involvement in those enterprises, one would not be surprised to discover such a connection. A garland is a sort of decoration, sometimes even suggesting an award or an achievement or even a victory – consider a garland of laurels, for example. I just wonder if the reference to ‘Garland,’ might not imply some sort of victory, or even triumph, and if my association of the word with ‘Girls’ has any relevance at all, then the notion of this whole affair’s bringing some sort of vengeance on the behalf of those poor misused girls is not beyond the veil of one’s imagination.”

“My, Holmes, that is a bit of a deductive stretch, even for you,” I commented.

“Never, Watson, are we to disregard possibilities purely on the basis of their implausibility. Remember our diminutive adversary Tonga? Or that serpent that had been trained to climb a bell rope using milk as a reward? Bizarre, Watson, but nonetheless quite true. ”

“Quite right, of course,” I concurred, then asked, “What do you think we should do now, Holmes?”

“I am intrigued by the missing brandy decanter and glass,” Holmes mused calmly.

“The brandy was quite possibly the vehicle through which the strychnine was administered to poor Peter Fenwick. The butler is on a mission to seek and recover those vital items now. When he recovers them, perhaps some light will be shed on this whole dreadful affair,” I said hopefully.

“I would be most surprised if the butler’s quest ever produces the missing items. I find it remarkably unlikely that any of the servants occupying a station below that of the butler would intrude into the family’s most private quarters at that time of night especially when guests were in residence, therefore, I cannot embrace the conjecture that another servant cleared away the decanter and glass. That means that, if, indeed, there ever was a decanter and glass, that someone other that another servant removed them. That leaves only five possible people. The butler, Mr. Hyl, Mr. Ransted, or one of the two ladies, Mrs. Fenwick or Miss Fenwick.”

I indicated that I understood and agreed with Holmes’s analysis.

“Perhaps,” Holmes continued, “it is time to interview the ladies of the household, and I hope that it will not be considered too crass of us at this point of the investigation to ask the ever important question, cui bono, Watson, cui bono?”

“I suppose that we should summon the butler.” I suggested, “He will be able to tell if the ladies have composed themselves sufficiently to speak with us about this gristly affair.”

“Yes, we need to summon the butler . . . John.”

Proceed to Part Five