In a moment the butler arrived at the constable's bidding.

“John,” said Holmes, “are the women of the household sufficiently themselves as to answer some question of their movements night before last?”

“Yes sir.”

“Would you be so kind as to tell them we will meet them in the drawing room momentarily.”

John bowed slightly as Holmes apparently dismissed him to his task. As John turned I believe I saw a small grim smile on his continence. How odd, I must have imagined it.

“Well, Inspector, I believe they can move the body now. We have determined a method of death. Now for the means and motivation.”

“My dear Holmes,” I began. He shushed me with a warning finger.

John returned, “Madame and her sister will see you now, Mr. Holmes. I’m to show you the way.”

“Thank you, John,” I answered in response to a look from Holmes that indicated he wished me to draw John into conversation. “This seems a large manor home, it must take quite a large staff. Do the servants live here, John, or are they day help?”

John glanced at Holmes, “You’re quite correct there, sir. it takes meself, two upstairs maids, two downstairs maids, one tweenie and cook and her helper to keep this old place up. Oh, the upstairs maids and I live in. The head groom and his wife, she’s the cook, live in the carriage house. The rest live locally and come in as day staff, sir.” John added almost as an after thought, “And there’s madame’s personal maid. She sees to madame’s things and naught else. Years ago my sister had the job and she helped around the house as well but madame found one of them French girls on a visit to Paris several years back.”

I didn't think John approved of madame’s personal maid from the tone in his voice. I dismissed it as jealously among the staff. John probably thought all the staff should report to him and, from experience, personal maids only reported to their mistresses. We had arrived at the drawing room door. John stood aside to allow Holmes and myself entrance.

“Not coming with us, John?”

“No sir, I’ve got my duties, sir, and we’re behind hand on breakfast dishes and I’m afraid lunch is going to be a catch as can on trays, sir, and Mr. Holmes, sir, staff can find no trace of the decanter and glass what was used last night.”

“Thank you, John. Please keep looking although I fear it’s gone for good.”

I rather thought to myself, John was laying on the ‘sirs’ but he probably just wished to remind himself of his station. I followed Holmes into the drawing room.

We found ourselves with three women and a man. One of the women was obviously a maid, probably madame’s personal maid since she was standing close to a youngish but matronly woman. The man soon introduced himself.

“Good morning, gentlemen, I mean, I don’t mean it’s a good morning, but just, oh dash it, I mean hello. I’m Arthur Ranstad. Miss Fenwick and I have been walking out and as the ladies no longer have..I mean.” The man sighed. “As the nearest thing to a relative the ladies have remaining I thought it wise I should be here.” The tall, thin man was expensively dressed. I did notice that his collar was askew but that would not be unusual for someone who had dressed in a hurry this morning. His disarray seemed to endear him to the amply endowed Miss. Iona Fenwick.

“I am so sorry Mr. Holmes, Mr. Ranstad means well but he thought he should represent the family and, of course, I understand you would wish to speak to everyone in the household who was present yesterday evening. I assure you, Mr. Holmes, I am quite ready to be questioned.” In spite of the horror she and her sister had viewed, Mrs. Fenwick, or I assumed she was, appeared to have a twinkle in her eye.

It was not what I would think appropriate for the occasion but, perhaps, someone had just told a joke prior to our arrival and the twinkle was the remainder. Holmes, not the least ruffled by her demeanor proceed into the room to shake hands with Mr. Ranstad. A gesture that quite startled me. It seemed protocol was being discarded all way round. I suspected Holmes was making use of the odd situation.

“I am quite sure,” Holmes said, “that a murder in the family has upset everyone to a great extent.”

I heard gasps from the ladies and the gentleman seemed struck dumb. Finally, Mrs. Fenwick seemed to gather herself, “are you sure of that Mr. Holmes? The Inspector has said nothing about murder. I just thought Peter died of a weak heart. To the maid she said, “Madeline, would you be so kind as to fetch my pillbox from upstairs. You know which one I mean.” Madeline seemed put out but did as she was told and left the room.

Holmes asked, “A weak heart? Did Mr. Fenwick have a weak heart?”

“Oh yes sir. It came out at the time of his brother’s death. Peter’s weak heart prevented him from perpetrating such a foul deed of which he was all but accused. He appeared to the casual observer in the peak of good health, but he was, in fact, not a well man. The earlier escapades of his brother and then his brother’s violent death wore on Peter’s heart. But actually his heart had been weak from an early age.”

“In deed.” Holmes replied smoothly. It was a tone that said ‘tell me more.’

“Yes, sir. Peter would not hear of anyone coddling him and put up a good front before strangers but to his family and those who lived closely with him it could not hold for very long. He would run out of steam, so to speak, early afternoon and, therefore, always had his nap.”

“Since we have already begun, Mrs. Fenwick, please be good enough to determine the sequence of events starting when Mr. Hyl and Mr. Ranstad arrived.”

"Oh, well as to that sir, they arrived day before yesterday for a late luncheon. Someone else will have to tell you the date. I’m afraid my days have rather run together.”

“I did not understand that they arrived earlier than yesterday.”

“Oh, but they did, sir. I believe they had business with Peter but you can, of course, ask them yourself. Especially since one of them is standing here.”

“Er...” interrupted Mr. Ranstad, “yes, quite right. We arrived afternoon of the day before, had a late lunch and Peter took his nap as usual.” He looked at Miss Fenwick who smiled at him encouragingly.

“Mrs. Fenwick,” Holmes returned to questioning Peter’s wife, “what were your recollections of that day?”

“Mr. Ranstad is quite correct. Peter took his nap. Arthur and Iona walked about the grounds while I played a game of solitaire and Langford read over some papers, there,” she pointed to a table and chair set in front of the window. “Mr. Hyl does not play cards and, in fact, I have seldom seen him enjoy himself except for reading.”

By this time Holmes and Mrs. Fenwick were both sitting on either side of a small table nattering on like two old friends. I had settled on the coach and our two love birds, if one may call them that, were chatting quietly at another set of chairs with table, this one had a lamp, some small pictures and what I took for a brass sculpture, in the shape of a wolf. Periodically, one of the couple would glance over at Holmes and quickly look back when they noticed me watching them. I was beginning to feel like an intruder when the Inspector stuck his head in the room.

“Mr. Holmes, may I have a word please.”

“Of course, Inspector Gregson I was nearly finished here at any rate.” We took our leave of the trio and departed the room as Madeline arrived carrying a small ornate box and glass of water.

“Now, Inspector, what can I do for you?”

“While you were interrogating the widow and sister I took the liberty of having my men search for the missing brandy decanter and glass. You will never guess what we have found, Mr. Holmes.” Gregson appeared exceedingly agitated.

Proceed to Part six