Frodo was surprised when he received a note from his cousin Angelica, asking him to come and see her on the next pony-racing day. He and Angelica had never been friendly with each other, and he wondered what she could possibly want. But, since his elder cousin, and Angelica's uncle by marriage, Milo Burrows, was taking his famously fast black-and-white pony to the Lithetide races at the Michel Delving fairgrounds, and Merry and Pippin were going as well, Frodo decided to accompany them.

He rode with the trio as far as the inn near the fairgrounds, where they were to meet Angelica's husband, Lad Whitfoot, but he did not go with them to the racing field. Instead, he sought out Lad's and Angelica's handsome new house not far from the Mayor's residence. His cousin was sitting on the grass in the garden, playing with her infant daughter.

Those who cared to count noted that Angelica's baby had been born less than seven months after her marriage to Lad Whitfoot, but they did not say so above a whisper, except perhaps to observe that the child seemed remarkably healthy for one born so early. Little Willa was a very healthy-looking baby, Frodo thought when he saw her. She was also the image of her mother, blue-eyed and flaxen-curled and quite pretty.

Angelica smiled a sincere welcome when she saw Frodo come up outside the garden gate, and rose to greet him.

"I'm glad you've come early, Frodo. I wasn't expecting you 'til after the races, but this will give us a better opportunity to talk. If I know my Lad, he won't be home 'til the last pony has had its run."

"You let him stay out so late?" Frodo teased.

"Oh, Lad may stay at the races as long as he likes," Angelica answered with a toss of her curls. "I don't interfere with his fun, but I won't let him ruin us with it. I don't want him to become like Uncle Milo." She grew more serious, and told him frankly, "I adore Uncle Milo, but I saw very well the trouble he put poor Aunt Peony and the children in when he couldn't pay his racing debts. Aunt Peony spoiled him terribly and always let him have his way, and so did his mother. I won't have that happen to us. It's best I put my foot down about that sort of thing right away. Lad has an allowance for his ponies and his wagers, but not a penny more!"

Apparently, Angelica was just the sort of "managing wife" Mayor Whitfoot had hoped she'd be for his son. "What did you want to see me about?" Frodo asked her.

Angelica picked up the baby and invited Frodo into the house, where they could speak privately. "It's about a dear, close friend of mine," she explained once they were seated in the parlor. "You see, she's gotten herself into some difficulties, and of course I know how you like to investigate things--and how discreet you can be with other people's secrets. I told her I would speak to you."

"I'll be happy to help to if I can," Frodo answered, but he was already doubtful of the existence of this "dear, close friend." He had learned from his previous, confidential cases that people who spoke of "a friend" in trouble were usually talking about themselves. "What sort of difficulty is she in?"

"My friend is a young lady, recently married," Angelica told him. "She wrote some letters to another boy--not the one she married, you understand. He sent them back to her after her betrothal, and she should have thrown the lot into the fire right away, but instead she did a very foolish thing: she tied them into a packet with the letters she'd received from him and locked them up in what she thought was a secret hiding place no one else knew about."

"Why?" wondered Frodo, surprised at this tale. He had never heard of Angelica having a romance with anyone but Lad. If she'd ever been in love another boy, it must have happened while he was away.

"She still loved him, I suppose," answered Angelica. "The boy she did marry was her family's choice, not her own. He was more prosperous, and from a better family."

Frodo was hopelessly confused; the situation Angelica had described wasn't her own at all. Her family had not wished her to marry Lad. If they'd hoped for her to marry a boy from a more prosperous family, it was himself. Was she trying to disguise her own story, which he knew very well? Or was he mistaken, and was she honestly speaking of someone else?

"Can you tell me your friend's name?" he asked. "If I'm to help her, I need to know at least that much."

Angelica hesitated, then said, "Camellia Bilbury. At least, that was her maiden name. It's Stillwaters now she's married. She's been my friend since we were little girls. You don't know her, do you?"

"Not that I recall." There was a family called Bilbury that lived in Overhill who were friends of Angelica's parents, but Frodo did not recall if they had a daughter around Angelica's age.

"Perhaps it's best that you be introduced so you can speak to her directly about this. She's very shy, but I'll see if I can convince her to visit you and tell you her troubles."

Their business concluded, Angelica invited Frodo to stay for tea and to wait for the others to come for dinner; she was sure Lad would invite his companions home when the races were done. Rather than go and try to find his friends on the fairgrounds, Frodo agreed to stay. He was surprised that he could while away an afternoon pleasantly in Angelica's company, but it was so. Motherhood became Angelica; getting everything she wanted had taken the impatient and frustrated edge off her personality. They were much more comfortable with each other now that Aunt Dora was no longer trying to push the two of them into marrying, an idea neither had relished.

At dusk, Lad came home, bringing Milo, Merry, and Pippin with him. "I said we'd give 'em a better dinner than they'd get at the Inn," he explained to his wife as the party entered the parlor. "That's that all right with you, love?"

"Of course." Angelica kissed his cheek, then her uncle's. "I expected them. I gave instructions to Cook that we'd be having guests for dinner. Please, make yourselves at home." She excused herself and went into the kitchen. Frodo's cousins flung themselves into chairs around the parlor, and looked surprised to see him there.

"We wondered where you'd gone to, Frodo," said Pippin. "Have you been here at Jelly's all day?"

"As a matter of fact, I have. Angelica asked me to visit."

Lad looked a little leery at this information. He was as aware as anybody that the Bagginses had wanted Angelica to marry Frodo instead of him; only Angelica's lack of interest in her handsome and wealthy cousin, and the rumors going around Hobbiton about Frodo and Sam Gamgee had assured Lad that he had nothing to worry about.

Frodo did not want to discuss the case he'd been called here to investigate in front of Lad and Milo, since Angelica had obviously not wanted them to know about her friend's problem. There would be time later to explain things to Pippin and Merry, if they were going to help him look into it. But some explanation was needed to put Lad at ease.

"She wanted to introduce me to my new niece," he said, indicating little Willa, who was asleep in his lap. Angelica had bestowed the baby on "Uncle Frodo," while she'd gone to see about dinner. Willa was technically his third cousin twice removed, and even though hobbits took great delight in being able to determine these precise degrees of relationship, they found them too cumbersome for everyday use, preferring to call their relatives "aunt/uncle," "nephew/niece," and generally "cousin," as age and situation warranted. "We've been playing all afternoon."

At the mention of his daughter, Lad's expression brightened. "She's a darling, isn't she?" he said with a note of pride. "Best baby you could ask for--never frets or cries. She'll be the prettiest girl in the Shire one day, just like her mother."

"We'll be having one of our own at Bag End soon," Frodo told him. "Have you heard? Sam and Rosie are expecting a baby in the spring."

"Already?" said Milo. "Now, that is good news! I always said that was the best thing for your Sam, didn't I--settling down with a nice girl? It's put a stop to all the gossip. You ought to get married yourself, Frodo."

Frodo passed over this suggestion, and answered, "I suppose I'll have to get used to having a baby around the house, even if it's not mine."

"You'll get used to it," Merry said. "If Rosie and Jelly go around plopping babies down in your lap for you to mind often enough, it'll do the trick. You might even decide you want one of your own. Isn't that right, Pip?" He turned pointedly to his cousin. No one but Pippin understood this odd joke, and Pippin didn't find it funny.

The conversation then turned to the day's races; Milo's pony had been a great success, and had made them all a little richer over the course of the afternoon. Frodo had no interest in racing, but he listened politely to his friends' enthusiastic tales, until Angelica returned to announce that dinner was ready.

As Lad led the other guests into the dining room, Angelica retrieved her baby and whispered to Frodo, "I'll bring Camellia by Bag End to meet you as soon as I can."

Two days later, after he had returned to Bag End, Frodo received a note in the morning post from Angelica, saying that she and Camellia Stillwaters would call upon him at tea-time. He went into the kitchen, where Sam was finishing his second breakfast and Rosie sat at the opposite side of the table nibbling on an unbuttered roll.

"I say, Rose, can we have something specially nice for tea this afternoon? I'm expecting company, two ladies."

He hadn't intended for Rosie to become his housekeeper when she'd married Sam--Bag End was to be her house as much as his--but once she'd settled in, Rosie seemed to regard looking after him and managing the household as being as much a part of her new duties as caring for Sam. Plus, she seemed to hold the odd prejudice of most working-class hobbits that a gentleman couldn't be expected to do anything for himself.

"Of course, Mr. Frodo," Rosie answered. "We've got some nice, fresh cream in the cold-larder, just fit for cream-tarts. What about blueberries? I could make some nice little blueberry tarts. They're in season, and I'll fetch some from the Bywater market when I do my shopping."

"Thank you--that'll be lovely."

"Are you feeling up to it?" Sam asked.

Frodo assumed that Sam was worried about his receiving visitors so soon after his long journey to Michel Delving--but just as he opened his mouth to reply, he realized that Sam was speaking to Rose. She was in the early weeks of her first pregnancy and had felt queasy earlier that morning, skipping her first breakfast. She seemed to be feeling better now but, to Sam, a missed meal was always a cause for concern.

"I'll go to the market instead of Rose," Sam offered, then told his wife, "You shouldn't be going all that way and back, carrying heavy baskets."

"Don't be silly, Sam. It's only first thing in the mornings I'm a bit off, and the sickly feeling passes quick enough. Some fresh air and a walk to Bywater will do me good..." Rosie gave him a flirtatious smile, "Whyn't you come shopping with me? You can carry the basket if you like."

Sam was happy to accept this offer. Now, he turned to Frodo and asked, "Who're these ladies coming to tea?"

"My cousin Angelica. She's bringing a friend."

"Why the fuss? You don't like her."

"No..." said Frodo, although he did seem to be getting on better terms with Angelica since she had married. "But the friend may be a client."

The excitement of last autumn, when Frodo had become famous as an investigator, had died down, but one or two people still knocked on the door of Bag End each week to ask for his help. Frodo's efforts were limited since he had been ill throughout the spring, but he aided them whenever he could.

He told Sam a little of what Angelica had told him about her friend's predicament.

"It's the first real investigation you've had since your bad spell," Sam said. "Are you sure you're fit for it?"

"I may need assistance," Frodo conceded. "I can count on your help, can't I, Sam?"

"'Course you can!" Sam assured him. "You've only got to ask."

Rosie and Sam went out to do their shopping, and Frodo's guests arrived at Bag End shortly before 4:00 that afternoon.

Frodo had thought it odd that a vain and selfish girl like Angelica would have a close girl-friend, but when he saw Camellia Stillwaters, he understood: Camellia could never be a threat to Angelica's vanity. She was a plain, quiet-looking young lady with long, sandy ringlets and a timid face. Although she was taller than Angelica and he by several inches, she seemed to shrink and fade beside his cousin's radiant good looks. If Frodo had ever met her before, he couldn't recall it.

"We've been at Aunt Dora's," Angelica explained as Frodo showed the two ladies into the best parlor, where Rose had laid out their tea. "She wanted us to stop for tea with her, but I said we already had another engagement. I've left the baby with Aunt Peony. The family's still angry about how I tricked everyone to marry Lad, but they adore my Willa and she's making up for anything scandalous I might've done to have her."

"Willa is a dear little girl," Camellia said with a wistful, shy smile. "I'd love to have a baby like her for my own."

"You have no children, Mrs. Stillwaters?" Frodo inquired as he offered them tea and some of Rosie's blueberry tartlets.

"No..." she shook her head. "Not yet. I've only been married six months."

"Do you and your husband live near here?" asked Frodo. "I believe your family is from Overhill?"

"Yes, that's right, but we don't live here now. Val--that's my husband--and I, we live near Budgeford, with Val's mother."

"Camellia's visiting her family here while her husband is at the Lithetide races," Angelica added. "They'll be going home tomorrow, so this was the most convenient time for her to come and see you."

Camellia nodded in agreement. She seemed ill at ease, and Frodo waited until after the ladies had had some refreshment and Camellia looked more comfortable before he got on with the reason for her visit. "Angelica's told me something of your problem, Mrs. Stillwaters. Will you tell me more? I'd like to hear what happened in your own words, and learn something of your situation."

Camellia glanced at Angelica, who briefly took her friend's hand and said soothingly, "You can trust Frodo, Cammie. He never tells secrets. I'll leave you to talk." She left the parlor to have a chat with Rosie. It was only polite that Angelica speak to Rose while she was here. While the two had been in very different social circles as unmarried girls, they'd become acquainted during Sam's and Rosie's honeymoon visits to Michel Delving. As married ladies, one with her first baby and the other expecting, they had much more in common.

"Will you tell me?" Frodo repeated once he and Camellia were alone.

"You see, there was a boy..." Camellia began timidly, then the color rushed to her cheeks and she faltered.

"And your parents objected to him," Frodo prompted, to encourage her to speak further, but his visitor shook her head.

"No, not my parents. I'm an orphan."

"But I understood that you were visiting your family? I thought Angelica said-" Frodo was certain that his cousin had mentioned Camellia's family several times.

"She meant my aunt and uncle," Camellia explained. "My parents died when I was barely in my tweens, and Aunt Rue and Uncle Turlo brought me up. They always did their best to look out for me, and the money my parents had left me. They tried to protect me from fortune-hunters."

"Is that what they thought this boy-"

"Rolo," Camellia supplied the name. "Rolo Bindbole." Then she explained in a sudden burst of confidence: "He came from Bindbole Wood, to be 'prenticed to the Bywater smith. We met at a harvest dance two years ago. His family was very poor, and he had no money of his own beyond what was in his pockets, but he asked to marry me all the same. I wasn't yet three-and-thirty, so I must ask my aunt and uncle for their permission. They wouldn't allow it."

"They thought that Rolo wanted to marry you for your money?"

"Yes, that's right. Uncle Turlo had a word with Rolo's master, and he was dismissed. He went back to the Wood, and I never saw him again--but Uncle made him return all the letters I wrote him. Aunt Rue said it was for the best, and I was lucky to have them look out for me. But I didn't think so. It felt terrible, at the time." She had leaned forward over the tea table toward Frodo as she spoke in a low, quick voice, and she was crushing folds of her skirt in her clenched hands. "I couldn't believe it of Rolo, but now that my letters have been taken, I don't know what to think! Who else might want them, or would know that I had them?"

"Then you suspect he's taken them?" Frodo asked. "Has he been seen near Budgeford?" Bindbole Wood was more than forty miles from Budgeford.

"I haven't seen Rolo," Camellia answered quickly, then added, "It was my maid, I think, who actually took the letter from the house. Only after she left my service, I realized that they were missing from their hiding place."

"Where was this hiding place?"

"In a secret compartment of my old portable writing desk. I've had it since I was small, and brought it with me to Stillwater Hall when I married. There's a false panel at the back, beneath the hinged lid, and a few inches of space where I've always hidden my special treasures."

"You're quite sure it wasn't your husband who found them?"

"No!" Camellia shook her head. "Val hasn't the least idea there was anyone else." She turned pleading eyes up to Frodo. "I haven't been unhappy with him--please, don't think that. He's always been very sweet to me and I've no complaints of him, only... but he's not the one I would have chosen to marry if I'd been allowed my own way. I wish I'd been as brave as Angelica. Even if Rolo was after my money, that doesn't meant he would've been a bad husband once he'd gotten it. He wouldn't have turned to the bad, and had to steal. All the same, I'd like to have my letters back."

Frodo remembered what Angelica had said about Camellia's reason for keeping her old love letters: "She still loved him, I suppose." Apparently, she did even now.

"Can you help me, Mr. Baggins?" she asked him. "And, please, don't let Val or my uncle and auntie know."

"I'll do what I can," Frodo promised and, since Camellia seemed to be shaken by the effort of telling him her secrets, he poured her another cup of tea to calm her down. "I have just a few more questions, and then we are finished for today. Angelica will see you home. Who else lives at Stillwater Hall besides you and your husband? You mentioned his mother."

"Yes, Val's mother lives there," said Camellia. "It's her house. She's a widow. Besides the three of us, there are only a few servants, who've been with Mother Stillwaters for ages."

"What about your maid? Was she in your employ before you married?"

"No. Mother Stillwaters engaged her for me when I first went to live at the Hall."

"Did your mother-in-law also dismiss her, or did the maid leave your service for reasons of her own?"

"Mother Stillwaters sent her away. She said the girl was unsuitable."

"How long ago did this happen?"

Camellia thought about this. "It was near the beginning of June, perhaps three weeks ago."

"And when did you discover your letters were missing?"

"About a week after that."

"One last question, Mrs. Stillwaters," said Frodo. "What was this maid's name?"

"Betula. Betula Root."

"I have an errand for you, Sam, if you agree to take it," Frodo said after he had seen his guests out the door and sought out his friend in the sitting room. "It may take you away from home for several days, and I know you don't wish to be away, especially now..." Frodo glanced toward the kitchen, where Rosie was washing up the tea-things; when she saw the glance, she looked curious.

Sam felt a momentary reluctance, but he had offered to help Frodo in any way he could, and he meant to stick by it. "What d'you need me to do?" he asked.

"I must find a girl named Betula Root. She was recently employed as a maidservant in a house near Budgeford, but left a few weeks ago. We must trace her whereabouts, without asking her previous employers where she's gone. Mrs. Stillwaters' case requires a great deal of discretion. We can't go to her family with questions. They mustn't even know that she's consulted us. I know I can rely on you both-" Frodo included Rose, who had come into the sitting room while he was speaking, "to hold your tongues."

Sam, he knew he could trust beyond all doubt, but this was the first confidential case Frodo had taken since Rosie had joined his household and he wanted to be sure she understood that nothing she overheard about Camellia Stillwaters should be repeated outside the Bag End.

Rosie nodded solemnly.

"From what Mrs. Stillwaters has told me," Frodo continued, "the first step in retrieving her letters is to find this girl, find out if she has them, and get them back from her if she does. If she didn't take them, she may still be able to help us with our inquiries. She was a servant in the Hall for several months, and could tell us of the household's workings. She might have seen something, or heard gossip about the theft."

"Where do I start looking for her?" Sam asked him.

"I don't know," Frodo admitted. "She may still be in Budgeford, or she might be anywhere in the Shire by now. If she hasn't taken another job, she may have gone home to her family. Do you know anyone named Root, Sam?" Pippin had once joked that Sam knew everybody who lived within fifty miles of Hobbiton, and Frodo suspected it was very nearly true.

"Root?" Sam gave the matter some thought. "There's the Deeproots in Bywater. You know them. And there's the Taproots, as keep that alehouse on the Tuckborough Road."

"And there's Old Farmer Grubroot, who has that little farm down past Three-farthing Stone," Rosie added to be helpful, but none of these were what Frodo wanted.

Sam thought some more. "Wait, now--D'ye remember how we stopped at the Beeshive Tavern in Whitfurrows last spring, Frodo, on our way back from Brandy Hall? The ostler there was just plain Root, and Whitfurrows is right near Budgeford."

"It is indeed!" Frodo exclaimed. He did not remember much about their brief stay at the Beeshive, for he had been ill at the time and stayed in his room. "Did you have a word with him, Sam?"

"That I did, when I took the ponies to the stable--but I couldn't say if this girl you're after is a relative of his," Sam added hastily. "We didn't talk about family."

"Nevertheless, it might be worth asking if he has a daughter or niece in service," said Frodo. "Will you do it?"

"I don't see as I've got much choice," Sam answered. "It needs doing, and if I don't go, you'll go riding off yourself in search of her--and you already had one long journey this week!"

Frodo smiled. "I wouldn't do half as good a job of it as you would, Sam," he rejoined. "Ostlers and maidservants won't tell me their secrets as easily as they would tell you."

"You needn't worry, Sam." Rosie added, supporting Frodo. "Me 'n' Mr. Frodo'll look after each other while you're away."

The next morning after an early breakfast, Sam rode away down the East Road. Frodo was still asleep, but Rosie saw her husband off at the door with a kiss and a packet of hard-boiled eggs, apples, and sandwiches to sustain him on his journey. It was more than thirty miles to Whitfurrows, and he would not reach his destination until well after lunchtime.

Although Rosie was not interested in taking part in investigations herself, she was supportive of Sam's work with Frodo. She was proud that her husband was known around Hobbiton and elsewhere as the famous detective's assistant, and frequently said so. During their courtship, she had listened to Sam's stories of his investigations with Frodo, her eyes shining with admiration. Sam always made Frodo the hero of the tale and praised his extraordinary cleverness in solving the mystery, but Rose insisted that Mr. Frodo would never have managed without Sam's help. She was sure Mr. Frodo would say just the same.

"He does," Sam acknowledged.

It was with this knowledge--that Frodo was depending on his help, and that Rosie admired him for it--that Sam set out on his errand.

He reached the Beeshive Tavern in Whitfurrows in mid-afternoon. Rather than leave his pony to the care of the Inn's stable-hands, he took it around to the stable himself, for that was where the ostler would be.

But the ostler Root was not in the stables, nor anywhere to be found. Going into the Inn and making an inquiry to the innkeeper, Sam learned that Old Palgo Root had quit his place abruptly two weeks ago and gone away; the innkeeper couldn't say to where.

Sam sank down in dismay, and considered what to do next. He couldn't ride all the way back to Hobbiton to ask Frodo for new instructions. He already knew what Frodo would want him to do: Keep looking until he found Mr. Root, or Betula, or some clue to the whereabouts of either. But where should he begin?

After fortifying himself with an early dinner and a couple of half-pints in the Beeshive's taproom, Sam began his search in the other stables around Whitfurrows, then tried the Three Badgers Inn at Budgeford, for it was the nearest. The folk he spoke to at the Badgers were most helpful. According to local gossip, Old Palgo's granddaughter had gotten into some sort of trouble with a lad, and the old hobbit had taken the girl away before there was an open scandal. A few questions established to Sam's satisfaction that the granddaughter was the same Betula Root he'd been sent to find, but no one could say where she and Old Root had gone. The most anyone could tell him was there was an aunt in Whitfurrows, and that other members of the Root family had farms in the Bridgefields, and there were more of them up around Quarry and Scary.

He tried the aunt first and learned that Betula had stayed with her for a few days, before her grandfather had taken her off. She had nothing to say about the gossip except that she didn't listen to such nonsense--and neither should he!--and suggested that Palgo and Betula might have gone to visit one of their family in the north.

Sam's journey the following day took him through the Bridgefields and up to the two northern towns of Quarry and Scary. He spoke to several more Roots, but found no sign of the ostler nor his granddaughter. "They han't been here," was all their relatives had to say.

On the third day, he visited the Buckshead Tavern just across the Brandywine Bridge in Buckland, then the Golden Perch in Stock, before turning to make his way wearily home. He would have to tell Frodo that he'd failed.

At dusk on that day, he arrived in Frogmorton, and decided to stop at the Polwygle Inn before the last leg of his journey to Hobbiton. He took his pony to the stableyard--and there was Palgo Root.

Sam blinked at the elderly hobbit, who stood quietly currying a pony near the open stable door, and he cursed himself for a fool. When he'd passed this way three days ago, he'd been so anxious to reach Whitfurrows that he hadn't stopped in Frogmorton at all. If he had, he would've found the ostler right away, and spared himself all this trouble and fruitless searching!

While Sam was not as keen a pony-fancier as some hobbits, he was fond of them, as he was of most animals, and he had tended enough ponies to strike up a intelligible conversation with an expert. Within a few minutes of entering the stable-yard, he was chatting on friendly terms with the gruff Mr. Root.

"Have you never been to the Michel Delving races?" Sam asked the elder hobbit, beginning the conversation innocuously.

Mr. Root shook his head and gave the pony he had finished brushing to a sullen-faced stable-lad before he turned his attention to Sam's pony. "I been to the races in the Bridgefields of a Highday," he said as he worked. "An't as grand as they holds in Michel Delving, I hear, but they suits me. Only, I heard tell of a pony, fast as the wind, as is owned by Mr. Milo Burrows. I'd like to see that un run."

"Oh, he's a fast un all right!" Sam agreed. "Fleetfoot, his name is, and he's done Mr. Milo proud."

The old hobbit looked keenly interested. "Seen 'm, have ye, lad? Friend of Mr. Milo's, are ye?"

"Well..." Sam hesitated. He'd be giving himself airs if he said he was Milo Burrows' friend. "I work for a cousin of his." Discretion forbade Sam from saying which cousin it was, but this connection was enough to gain Mr. Root's trust.

"I used to see Mr. Milo at the Bridgefields races when he was a lad," Mr. Root told him. "He'd come with his dad, Mr. Rufus. A keen gent for the ponies, Mr. Rufus was, and Mr. Milo's turned out the same. I hear as he doesn't come out Bridgefield-ways these days, save to visit his lady-mum."

"And what brings you so far from Bridgefields?" Sam asked. "You won't remember, Mr. Root, but we met at the Beeshive when I went through from Buckland with my gentleman last year. I was surprised to see you working here. I didn't know you'd left the Beeshive. Didn't the job suit.. ." he prompted, and lowered his voice confidentially, "or was it something else that brought you here?"

Mr. Root gave him a suddenly sharp, wary look. "Job suited fine," he replied, and was silent as he went around to the other side of the pony and briskly brushed down its flank. After a taciturn minute, he glanced up at Sam again and confided, "I had to bring my Bet away."

"Bet?"

"My granddaughter. I'm all she's got to look after her--and she an't made it easy!" He fixed Sam with a scowl over the pony's back. "Now how'd ye come to hear of it, lad?"

"Well..." Lies did not come easily to Sam, but this one was almost the truth. "When I was last in Budgeford, I heard talk of a girl named Betula Root as was in service at a grand house, and left town right quick afterwards. Would that be your Bet?"

"That'd be her," Mr. Root affirmed glumly. "I knew she'd get herself talked about! Fool of a lass gets into trouble with a young fellow- Here, you!" The old hobbit turned swiftly, finding the stable-boy lurking just inside the open doorway behind him. "Mind your own business! Be off!"

The boy slunk away across the stableyard in the direction of the Inn's back door, and went into the kitchens. Mr. Root watched him go, and snorted dismissively.

"And now she taken up with that un! At least, he's asked to marry her. I'd be glad to see Bet with a husband, only the lad's a wastrel. Lazy. He'll come to no good end, you may be sure! Never tends to his work, and he's always at the kitchens, keeping Bet from hers."

"Your Bet's working here?" asked Sam, and tried not to sound too eager at the news.

"She's a-waiting tables in the common room. If you're stopping for dinner, lad, you'll no doubt see her."

Dinner sounded like an excellent idea. Once his pony was brushed, watered, and stabled, Sam went into the common room. It was still early on a summer evening, and he found an empty table easily. After a short wait, a maidservant came to him; Sam ordered an ale and some cold beef, and when the maid brought it to him, he asked her, "Your name wouldn't be Betula, would it?"

"It would--and who're you that asks it?" she retorted.

Sam didn't answer this, but said, "I'm looking for a girl by that name. Did you used to work for a lady named Mrs. Stillwaters?"

"That's right," Betula answered warily. "You're that detectin' fellow, aren't you?"

Sam's face went red. He had expected her to be suspicious of his questions, but not to guess so quickly who he was. "I'm not the detective," he answered modestly, "but I work for 'm."

"And what's he want with me?"

"It's Mrs. Stillwaters. She's missing some property of hers-"

"I don't have 'em!" Betula protested. "I didn't take anything of hers!"

"I didn't say you did," Sam said to quiet her. There were only a few other patrons in the room, but the last thing he wanted was for them to overhear if the girl made a fuss. "Only, you was her maid, weren't you? We thought as maybe you'd seen something that'd help us. Mrs. Stillwaters's offered a nice, big reward to get her property back, and you'd come in for a piece of it if you was to point us the right way to finding it." This was not true, but when Frodo had given him his instructions last night, he'd told Sam to say this to Mr. Root, or Betula, or anyone else who looked promising. If the opportunity arose, Sam was also authorized to pay to get the letters back and he'd been given enough money to do so.

At the mention of a reward, Betula's eyes momentarily lit up, then her mouth dropped open. "I don't have 'em," she repeated, but she no longer sounded defensive, only disappointed.

"But you did, didn't you?" Sam leaned closer to her with his elbows on the table and spoke in a lowered voice. "No lies now, Miss Root. What's happened to 'em? D'you know where they are? Maybe we can get them back?"

He could see the struggle play out in her face; she wanted to say that she hadn't stolen from her former employer, but she'd been offered a large amount of money for the stolen items--which was what she'd probably taken them for in the first place. How could she resist the offer?

At last, she confessed, "I gave 'em to Jorly."

"Who's that?"

"He's the stable-lad as works here. He said he'd know what to do with 'em."

Sam recalled the sullen boy who'd been lurking in the stable, and had been listening to his conversation with Mr. Root before heading into the Inn, and whom Mr. Root had said wanted to marry his grand-daughter. He understood now how Betula had guessed who he was. "Where's this Jorly now?" he asked. "Tell him I want a word with him."

Betula hastened off to find the lad, and Sam drank his ale and ate his dinner. Some minutes later, the girl returned and gestured to summon him. Sam left his table to follow her down a long, narrow hallway that led to the kitchens. Just before they entered the kitchens, they came to another door; Betula opened this and they were outside at the back of the inn, near the stableyard. The boy stood there, waiting under the light of a single iron lantern hanging over the door.

"Here he is," said Betula. Sam wasn't sure if she was presenting Jorly to him, or him to the lad.

"Bet says you're after some things, some letters that belong to a lady," said Jorly. "She says there's a reward if we find 'em."

"That's right," Sam answered.

"So you say," the boy retorted. "Hown't we to know it's not a trick? What if we say we got these letters? Bet's all but admitted she took 'em."

"I didn't-!" she protested.

"Then how'd you come by these letters, Bet? And how'd this detective here know to come looking for you in the first place?"

Stung, but unable to argue with this, the girl shut her mouth tightly.

"It's no trick," Sam said, getting down to business. "The lady only wants her property returned, no questions asked. If you got these letters of hers, it's to your advantage to hand 'em over now."

Jorly laughed. "Well, I don't have 'em! What d'ye think of that, Mr. Detective?"

"But I gave 'em to you!" Betula cried, and turned to Sam. "I wasn't lying--I did!"

"What'd you do with them?" Sam asked Jorly.

"I don't have 'em, I tell you." The boy grinned, as if he were telling a joke. "Not anymore! I sold 'em already. You're not the only one who's a-buying ladies' letters today. I gave 'em to someone who'll make the best use of 'em... your lady'll see."

Sam was fuming. So close, and just when he'd found what Frodo had sent him to get, the prize was yanked from his grasp! He was sorely tempted to punch this obnoxious, jeering creature and wipe the smirk off his silly face... when a more fitting punishment occurred to him.

"Now that's a shame," he said. "How much did he pay you? Was it as much as this?" Sam took out the purse in his coat pocket and opened it to spill a pile of coins into the palm of his hand. Both Jorly's and Betula's eyes went wide at the gold glimmering in the lantern-light. "Not so much? Pity you didn't wait, m'lad--You could've got a lot more for your trouble."

Sam went back into the Inn to pay for his dinner, leaving the pair standing there. When he returned to the stableyard a few minutes later to retrieve his pony and ride home, he had the satisfaction of seeing Betula quarreling furiously with Jorly; the boy wasn't laughing now.

"Sam, you're wonderful!" Frodo threw both arms around his neck and laughed in delight when Sam told him the story later that evening. Frodo was already in bed by the time Sam returned to Bag End, but Sam had gone to his room to report to him as soon as he'd come in, pausing only to be welcomed home by Rose and assured that she was fine. "Truly a marvel! What would I do without you?"

The praise was gratifying, but Sam knew he didn't deserve it. "I didn't get those letters."

"No, but we have an idea of where they are. When that stable-boy said he'd given them to someone who'd make use of them, he must have meant Rolo Bindbole. I wondered if they wouldn't turn up in his hands all along! Now that we know he has them, we have only to locate him. Perhaps we can offer to pay him more for their return than he'd ask from Mrs. Stillwaters, and recover them before there's a scandal." Frodo sombered. "I only hope it is money he's after, and not revenge. If he can be bought, so much to the good. If he wants to hurt and disgrace her, we may have to resort to more forceful tactics." His eyes went over his lover's face, and the flicker of a smile reappeared. "You don't mind playing the bully, do you, Sam?"

"Not if it's in a good cause," Sam answered.

"Oh, the cause is good. A lady's honor is at stake," Frodo said chivalrously.

"But how're we going to find him?"

"He was just in Frogmorton," Frodo mused. "Did you ask at the Inn, Sam? If Rolo had dealings with the maid and stable-lad, he might very well have been staying there."

Sam gaped at Frodo, and felt like an utter fool. This possibility hadn't occurred to him, even though Jorly had told him that he'd sold the letters that same day. "Frodo, I'm sorry--I never thought of it- Sam Gamgee, you're a pudding-head if ever there was one!"

But Frodo did not seem to be angry at his stupidity. "Never mind, Sam." With one arm loosely around Sam's neck, he wriggled closer to give him a consoling kiss. "We can go back tomorrow to continue our inquiries. Even if Rolo's left Frogmorton, he can't have gotten far. We'll trace him and get those letters yet."

"So I'll go out riding again tomorrow," Sam said dispiritedly.

"Yes," Frodo answered, "but I'll go with you, and at least you are home for tonight." He lay back against the pillows and reached up with his free hand to caress Sam's cheek and bring him down for another kiss. "I've kept count of the days since you've been gone, and I believe this is my night... If you're not too tired after riding around the Shire all day?"

Sam assured him that he wasn't.

After they'd made love, Sam stole quietly out of bed, washed up and put on his clothes. He assumed that Frodo was asleep, but as he tip-toed toward the door, the figure curled under the blankets asked, "Where're you going?"

Caught, Sam explained, "I was thinking I ought to go to Rosie. I didn't want to say anything, since it isn't her night and you were so happy to have me home, but we're done and I haven't seen her in three days neither. I don't want her to feel like she's been forgot. Besides, with the baby on the way, I don't like her being left alone too much. D'you mind awfully, Frodo?"

"No..." Frodo sighed. "I don't mind, Sam. You're quite right--Rosie mustn't feel neglected. Go to her, and I'll see you in the morning."

In the morning, as they were preparing for their journey to Frogmorton, there was a knock on the door. Since Sam was busy packing a bag for Frodo, Rosie went to answer it.

She returned to announce, "There's somebody to see you, Mr. Frodo. I told him you was about to leave, but he begs a minute of your time before you're off. He says it's most important."

"Very well. I suppose I can spare a minute, if it's urgent." Frodo went to the door to find his visitor standing in the front hall, waiting for him--a hobbit-lad of about his own age, perhaps a farmer or tradesman's assistant by his clothes, but no one Frodo knew.

"You're Frodo Baggins, the famous detective?" his visitor asked.

"Yes, that's right." Frodo had to smile at 'the famous detective' appellation. "I believe you wanted to see me?"

"I thought as you'd like to see me, Mr. Baggins. I've got sommat to give you." The young hobbit reached into a pocket of his worn tweed coat and brought out a packet of letters, tied with a faded blue hair-ribbon; Frodo could see that the topmost envelope was addressed to 'Rolo'. "I heard you was looking for these, for Cammie Bilbury--or, Stillwaters, I should say, though I won't ever be used to calling her by that name."

This was an unexpected turn. "Are you Rolo Bindbole?"

His visitor nodded. "I expect Cammie's told you about me, if she's asked you to get these back for her."

"She did." Frodo wondered what sort of game this Rolo was playing. Did he mean to sell the letters he'd just bought? At what price? There was only one way to find out. "Please, Mr. Bindbole, won't you come in, so we can discuss this matter?" The necessary conversation would be better held someplace more private than the front hall. He guided Rolo down the hallway in the direction of his study, then popped his head into the sitting room to call out, "Rosie, tell Sam to stop packing. We won't be going to Frogmorton today."

"You were at the Polwygle Inn yesterday," Frodo said once he joined his guest in the study. "You bought those letters from Betula Root and her friend, the stable-lad."

"That I did," Rolo answered. "They cost me quite a bit too, but I expect the lad thought I could make more money from them, through Cammie or her family. If you want to know, I was still at the Inn last night when your friend was there, though I didn't see him, nor learnt what he was after 'til he'd gone. It was the stable-lad who told me." He grinned. "He came to me and wanted to buy the lot back. I wouldn't, not for the same as I paid for 'em, and when he offered me more'n that, I got suspicious of what he was up to. I finally got it out of the lad that the famous detective from Hobbiton had agents out looking for 'em and was giving out a big reward. Gold. So I thought as I'd come to you myself."

"I see." It was just as Frodo had suspected. "I'll be happy to compensate you for your trouble, Mr. Bindbole," he said dryly. "And there is, of course, the question of a reward. How much do you expect those letters are worth?"

"More'n all the gold in the Shire to Cammie," said Rolo, "but I don't want your money, Mr. Baggins, nor any of hers."

"You mean, you've decided not to sell Mrs. Stillwaters' correspondence?" Frodo asked, surprised.

"I never meant to," Rolo answered. "I'm giving 'em to you." He put the packet of letters down on Frodo's desk.

Frodo didn't know what to make of this. Until Rolo had come here, he'd been fairly certain that Camellia Stillwaters' former love was behind the theft of her letters--perhaps, had asked Betula to steal them for him, and she'd taken them away with her instead--but he couldn't believe so now. Why would Rolo go to the effort of stealing the letters only to return them?

"I see what you think, Mr. Baggins," Rolo said, without rancor. "I don't blame you, not if Cammie's told you tales of how her family said I was after her money--but I tell you it an't so, and never was. I don't want a thing from her, and I wish no harm to her. She's made her choice, and I hope she'll be happy in it." There was a note of bitterness in his voice, but Frodo thought he meant it; Rolo wasn't after revenge any more than money. "When I learnt how this maid as worked for Cammie had the letters I wrote her, I bought 'em back. I knew she wouldn't want 'em passed around for anybody to read. I was planning to send 'em to Cammie myself, but when I heard how she'd hired you to find 'em, Mr. Baggins, I thought I'd do better to bring 'em to you. Cammie might refuse a package from me if she saw my handwriting on it, or else her husband might get hold of it and put her in just the trouble she wants to avoid. You'll do what's right--send 'em to Cammie, or burn 'em yourself."

"Yes, I will." Since Camellia had requested particularly that her letters be returned to her, Frodo would send them. "Would you like me to tell Mrs. Stillwaters the part you played in this affair?" he offered, rather ashamed of his uncharitable suspicions and trying to make amends.

Rolo shook his head. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins, but no. It wouldn't be fitting."

Frodo forwarded the packet of letters to Camellia Stillwaters, and considered the matter closed. It was just one of the many cases he had acted on privately in the past year, quickly settled to his client's satisfaction.

He thought no more of it, until a month later, when he received a letter addressed from Stillwater Hall:

"Dear Mr. Baggins-

"We are not acquainted, but your aunt Asphodel Burrows is a great friend of mine and recommends that I write to you. I have been informed that you investigate mysterious circumstances, and my family, finding ourselves in such a circumstance, turns to you for assistance.

"My daughter-in-law, Camellia, has become a source of great distress to my son and to me. I have reason to believe that she has run away with a boy she knew before her marriage, deemed unsuitable by her family. It is my hope that she can be found and recalled to her sense of respectability and duty to her family and ours before the incident becomes an irreparable scandal. I rely on your discretion.

"I understand that you are an invalid, but if it is possible for you to travel, I invite you call upon me at Stillwater Hall at your earliest convenience. If your health makes the journey impossible, I am prepared to call upon you at Hobbiton. I look forward to your reply, and will make arrangements accordingly.

"With sincerest regards,"

It was signed, "Mrs. Verbena Stillwaters."

"Here, Sam-" Frodo handed the letter across the breakfast table to his friend. "What do you make of this?"

Sam read the letter slowly. "She uses a lot of fancy words," he said after a minute. "She must be a very grand lady."

"If she's a friend of Aunt Asphodel's, she must be one of the most prominent ladies in the neighborhood of Budgeford. Fit to associate with a Brandybuck."

Of the innumerable older female relations whom Frodo addressed as "Aunt," there were only two who actually were: his father's sister Dora Baggins, and his mother's last surviving sister, Asphodel Burrows, Milo's mother. Asphodel was a Brandybuck by birth, daughter of a Master of the Hall. She never forgot her place in the world even after she had married the unassuming Rufus Burrows, and never let anyone else forget it either.

"Do you remember Camellia Stillwaters, Sam? Angelica's friend? The business with those stolen letters?"

"Back at Lithetide, when I went riding all over the Shire looking for that maid?" Sam nodded. "And now the lady's run off? It's funny that her mother-in-law wrote you about it, 'stead of her husband."

"Maybe he doesn't know as much about it as his mother does. Mrs. Stillwaters seems rather anxious to keep Camellia's old love affair with Rolo Bindbole a secret."

"Are you going to go?"

"Yes, I have to, for Mrs. Stillwaters's sake--Camellia, I mean." Frodo became thoughtful. "She was such a gentle and vulnerable creature when I met her, Sam. I'd hate to see her come to harm, even if she weren't a former client or Angelica's dear friend. After all the trouble we took to recover her letters and preserve her reputation for her, I can't let her fall into scandal now. I shall write and tell Mrs. Verbena to expect me this coming Trewsday. I've been thinking of visiting Fatty and Estella in any case, and this will be a good time to go. Will you come with me, Sam?"

He could see that Sam wanted to accompany him, but was reluctant to leave Rosie for long. The baby wouldn't be born until the following spring, and Rosie was doing quite well now that those first nauseous weeks had passed, but Sam was anxious for her all the same.

"Can you spare Sam for a week or so, Rose?" Frodo asked as Rosie came to the table to refill the teapot. "I've been asked to investigate a case near Budgeford, and may need his help."

"'Course Sam can go, if you need him, Mr. Frodo," Rosie answered.

"You'll be all right while we're gone?" Sam asked her.

"I'll be fine. I'll ask Mum to come and stay with me while you're away. If I need anything, she can look after me best at a time like this."

"There we are!" said Frodo. "We'll leave on Trewsday morning. I think I'll write to Merry and Pippin and ask them to join us. Merry knows that part of the Shire much better than I do, and they both might be glad to come away for awhile." From Merry's last letters, Frodo inferred that his cousin was bored in Tuckborough and only stayed on for Pippin's sake. "An investigation may be just the thing."

Frodo and Sam arrived in Budgeford on Trewsday afternoon. While Sam rode into the village with their baggage to see about taking rooms at the Inn, Frodo went directly to Stillwater Hall, which was off the road to the north.

Stillwater Hall was built smial-fashion, as all the best houses were, but the land here was too flat for hills and natural tunnels; the Hall rose as a large curving hummock in the midst of a neat little park with stone-paved paths that curved around recently planted clumps of bright flowers in circular beds, and shallow, decorative lily-ponds.

Frodo was shown into the best drawing-room, where Verbena Stillwaters was waiting to receive him. She was an elderly hobbit-lady, dressed in a dark blue velvet gown; her white curls were piled atop her head, and a little lace cap was perched upon them. When Frodo entered the room, she rose to greet him.

"You are Mr. Baggins, I presume, Asphodel Burrows' nephew?" As she held out her hand, her eyes swept over him and her brows rose delicately. Frodo assumed that she was surprised to see how young he was--he was used to this response from older hobbits who had never met him before--but Mrs. Stillwaters only said, "Yes, I can see a resemblance." She returned to her seat, and offered a chair to Frodo. "It's kind of you to come all this way to aide us, Mr. Baggins. I've heard a great deal about you. Your aunt has been following your career with keen interest and speaks highly of your abilities as an investigator. When she heard of the... situation with my daughter-in-law, Asphodel insisted I write to ask for your assistance. I trust I may rely on your discretion? I only want Camellia found and convinced to return home, with no breath of scandal following her absence. I will do all I can to further your inquiries, as long as they are conducted discreetly. Will you help?"

"I will try," Frodo answered. "Do you have any idea where your daughter-in-law might have gone?" He had his own ideas on the matter, but he wanted to learn how much the Stillwaters knew of Camellia's secrets. Did Mrs. Stillwaters know that Camellia had been his client?

"No," Verbena answered, "but I can guess. Before Camellia wed my son, I heard that the girl had been in love with someone else. Her family was at pains to keep the incident a secret while we were arranging the betrothal, but I considered it nothing more than idle gossip. If there were indeed anything in it... well, young people often have these unsuitable little romances." She smiled wryly. "It was just the same when I was a girl, and the Shire hasn't changed so much since then! But any sensible hobbit can be relied upon to make the correct choice when the time comes to marry. So it seemed it was with Camellia. She agreed to marry my Val--as suitable a match as a girl could hope to find--and they have been a happy couple.

"At least, I would have said so until a month or so ago. Then, I observed that Camellia began to be quiet and unhappy. She looked troubled, though she would not speak to me of what distressed her. It might have been the usual sort of newlywed quarrel. Are you married, Mr. Baggins?"

The question caught Frodo off guard. "No, Ma'am," he answered.

"Then you mayn't understand yet how a husband and wife can find it difficult to adjust to their new lives together during the first months of marriage. It's not remarkable that they should quarrel, but I never imagined there was a serious breach between them, until Camellia disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Frodo echoed.

Mrs. Stillwaters nodded. "Ten days ago, on August 5th, to be precise. She went out for a stroll in the garden after dinner and, as far as anyone can say, she did not return to the house that night. Her belongings were left in her room, but she left no note. She hasn't gone to her family in Overhill. It was then that I thought of that earlier romance, and wondered if Camellia had been so unhappy with Val that she decided to fly with the other boy."

"Does your son know of your suspicions?"

"No, I don't believe he does," the lady answered. "I've kept my thoughts to myself. Val's never heard the old gossip. It would break his heart if he learned that Camellia had had another love before her marriage, and that she should be so foolish to prefer that lover to him."

"Do you know the other boy's name?" asked Frodo.

"I'm afraid not," the lady said apologetically, "but I believe he's been seen-" She stopped and looked up suddenly at the sound of a nearby door opening and footsteps padding down the hallway, heading in their direction.

The door to the drawing-room opened, and her son came in. He was a handsome and well-kept hobbit in his forties, with taffy-colored curls and a rose brocade waistcoat that Frodo, who had a taste for nice clothing, frankly envied.

Valerian Stillwaters was studying him with open curiosity as well. "Hullo. I didn't know we had company. Who's this?" he asked his mother.

"This is Frodo Baggins," Mrs. Stillwaters made the introduction. "Mr. Baggins, my son, Valerian."

"Oh, Mother! Good Heavens!" Val cried out as indignantly as if someone had stepped on his toes. "You didn't actually engage an investigator?"

"I thought it best, dear."

"But why? No offense to you, Mr. Baggins--I'm sure you're quite as good as your reputation, but we've no need of your services. Cammie's not missing."

"You know where she is?" Frodo asked, surprised. Mrs. Stillwaters also looked surprised, and a little discomfited, at this announcement from her son.

"Not exactly, no," Val admitted, "but I'm sure she's only gone on a visit. She was planning a stay with her family in Overhill, wasn't she, Mother?"

"Yes, but we know she isn't there," said Mrs. Stillwaters. "I've exchanged letters with Rue Bilbury, and they haven't seen her."

"Then she must have stopped somewhere along the way to see some friends," her son responded.

"Has she written to you?" asked Frodo.

"No."

"Is she in the habit of going away on long visits and not telling you where she's gone?"

"She's never done it before, if that's what you mean," Val said grudgingly, "but she's a grown hobbit and knows her own mind. She's quite capable of looking after herself. If she wants to go off, I don't feel I must have her followed and know where she is every minute of the day. I hope I'm a broad-minded husband, and not one of those possessive, jealous and clinging brutes. I've wondered why she hasn't written me, but there's no reason to think any harm has come to her--not in the heart of the Shire. What a ridiculous notion! Camellia will come home when it suits her."

Frodo didn't know how to address this astonishing degree of obtuseness. Broad-mindedness in a marriage was one thing, but Val seemed completely unconcerned about his wife's unexplained absence. Or was he mistaken? Did Val already know what his mother was trying to keep from him, that Camellia had run off with Rolo Bindbole--and was this seeming indifference his way of putting a brave face on an awkward situation?

"If you're certain you don't need my assistance..." Frodo was about to make a tactful retreat, when Mrs. Stillwaters spoke:

"Nonsense. Please, stay, Mr. Baggins. We do need your help. You are the one who's being ridiculous, Val. Don't you see that Camellia must be found and made to return? People are beginning to wonder where she is--and, worse yet, beginning to talk." She gazed searchingly into her son's face. "You don't wish to become a subject of scandal, do you?"

"No... Oh, very well," Val conceded, and turned to Frodo. "Mother wishes to have you look for Cammie, and I suppose she's right. We can't have gossip. Look all you like, Mr. Baggins, but I'm quite sure Cammie is fine, wherever she is."

After he left Stillwater Hall, Frodo paid a call on his Aunt Asphodel in Budgeford. Budgeford was a small village, smaller even than Hobbiton, and lay two miles north of the larger town of Whitfurrows. It consisted of a cluster of buildings--the inn, a post office, a smithy and some shops, around a green--plus a dozen or so smials dug into the hills that rose on either side of the broad, shallow stream. Asphodel Burrows lived in a tidy, old-fashioned smial in the hills on the northern side, overlooking the farms and pastures of the Bridgefields and the line of the Brandywine River in the distance.

Rufus Burrows had been a hobbit of solid respectability but, like his son Milo, he was also a keen pony fancier and gambler of unreliable luck. He'd never had much money. Asphodel had brought her own fortune to the marriage, but most of what she and Rufus owned had gone toward giving Milo a gentleman's position in life. After her husband's death, Asphodel had taken what was left of her fortune, which was enough for an elderly lady to live on comfortably, sold the old Burrows' home outside Frogmorton, and moved to Budgeford. If she had gone back to live with her own family at Brandy Hall, she would have become an aged relative dependant on the current Master's kindness, much as her surviving brother Dinodas was. Here, however, her rank allowed her to queen it over her neighbors and create a small, select social circle around herself. To be noticed by Lady Asphodel and invited to one of her tea parties was considered a high honor, one much sought after by the ladies around Budgeford.

Asphodel was at tea in her tiny but elegantly furnished parlor when Frodo entered, but this was not one of her days for a great social occasion. The lady's only guest was Beryl Bolger, Fatty's and Estella's maiden aunt, who had looked after the two since their parents' deaths.

Asphodel was nearly ninety, but there were some dark strands left in her graying curls, and her eyes were a striking blue. Frodo felt a catch in his throat when he saw her: She reminded him so of his childhood memories of his mother. If Primula had lived so long, she would doubtless look very like her elder sister looked today.

"Hello, Aunties," he said. Asphodel held out her hands to him, and he went to her.

"Frodo, dear boy, welcome. I've heard you haven't been well." As Frodo leaned down to give her a kiss, Asphodel placed both hands on his cheeks and studied his face. "Yes, you are pale, but I'm pleased to see you aren't as ill as I'd feared. I'd hoped you'd be able to come and help with this baffling situation. Have you seen Verbena yet?"

"Mrs. Stillwaters? Yes, I've just been to visit her."

"She has been a dear friend of mine for ages. She's a Goldworthy, you know, by birth. A good family--not the very best, mind you, but quite respectable."

By Asphodel's standards, the very best families included only the Brandybucks and Tooks. The Goldworthys and Stillwaters were among the 'respectables': the Burrowses, Bagginses, Bolgers, Boffins, Bankses, Bracegirdles, and other well-to-do village gentry who were deemed suitable to marry into the best families. Like all the Brandybucks, Asphodel considered Frodo one of their own, even if he had the misfortune to have a different last name.

"Beryl and I have just been discussing Camellia Stillwaters's disappearance," Asphodel told her nephew. "It's quite all right, Frodo--you can speak freely. Beryl knows as much of the matter as I do, though I must say that it's all thoroughly mysterious to me. No one has seen the girl over in a week! What I find most bewildering is that her husband seems remarkably unconcerned. If I were a young hobbit, newly married, and my spouse left without a word, I would be frantic with worry. Do you imagine he knows where she's gone?"

"He says not, but I've wondered that myself," said Frodo. "I didn't like to question Mrs. Stillwaters about her own son, but perhaps you could tell me, Aunt Del..." Mrs. Stillwaters had said that there'd been gossip about Camellia since she had gone; if there was, then Frodo had no doubt that Verbena Stillwaters's closest friends were talking the most. He would like to hear what they were saying. "What have you heard about Valerian and Camellia? What sort of couple were they? Mrs. Stillwaters says they seemed very happy together until recently. Would you say the same?"

The two ladies exchanged a glance. "I haven't, of course, had the opportunity to observe the young couple as closely as Verbena has," Asphodel answered. "I've known Val since he was a boy, and the bride has been invited specially to all my occasions, but I can't claim to know her well. I was surprised when Val first introduced her. Did you meet Val, Frodo?" Frodo nodded. "Such a dandy! The lad stands out in a crowd. And Camellia--do you know her?"

"We've met. She's a friend of Angelica's."

"That very pretty, forward Baggins cousin of yours? How extraordinary! Camellia's such a quiet, unassuming girl. Sweet, of course, but with so little to say for herself you might easily forget she was there. I couldn't imagine what Val saw in her."

"She is said to be very wealthy," said Beryl.

"So are a good many other girls in the Shire," replied Asphodel. "My Burrows nieces, the Took girls, your Estella, and any one of them more spirited. Val might have had his choice. But there must have been something to draw them to each other. In spite of their different temperaments, the two never seemed unhappy. If she's left him of her own volition, I have no idea why. Val was always most attentive to her when I saw them together, and never gave her cause for complaint."

"I've wondered if there was something more behind it," Beryl said meaningfully, hoping that if there was, Frodo would tell them.

"There has been some talk of a lover," Asphodel agreed, "but one always hears such tales when a married couple parts, whether it's true or not."

"It's usually true," observed Beryl.

"Perhaps, but in this case, I doubt it. I can't see that quiet little creature having a lover, can you? Or being so bold as to fly with him! But where could the girl have gone?"

At least one thing was clear to Frodo: Mrs. Stillwaters had not confided everything to her friends. Aunt Asphodel hadn't heard Verbena's suspicions of her daughter-in-law's whereabouts.

"Where are you staying, dear?" Asphodel asked him. "At the Three Badgers Inn? Though I've never stopped there myself, I've heard it's comfortable for travelers, but it couldn't be as nice as a proper home. Why don't you come and stay here while you're investigating?"

"Nothing would please me more, Auntie," Frodo said diplomatically, "but I've brought my friend, Sam Gamgee, with me, and we're expecting Merry and Pippin to join us. I'm afraid we'd crowd you out."

Asphodel appreciated the difficulty; her smial was quite cozy and elegant, but little more than a bungalow. She could accommodate one guest, but not four.

Beryl's eyes, however, had brightened at the mention of Merry. "We haven't the room for so many guests either," she said, "but I'd be very happy to have you to dinner tonight. Can you come? We haven't seen Merry, nor Pippin, in so long! Please, bring your friend too."

By the time Frodo arrived at the Inn, Sam had taken two rooms, unpacked their belongings, and made one room very comfortable with a low fire and warm water ready for washing up. He was only waiting for Frodo's return to order their dinner--but at Frodo's news that they'd been invited to dine at the Bolgers', Sam hastily changed his plans. While Frodo washed up, Sam laid out clean clothes for him, and then washed and changed his own jacket for the best one he'd brought with him.

Merry and Pippin hadn't shown up yet. Frodo left a note for them with the innkeeper on his way out, telling them to come to the Bolgers'.

Fredegar Bolger--called Fatty by his friends--and his younger sister Estella were Frodo's second cousins on the Took side. They were as plump, apple-cheeked, and warm-hearted a pair of hobbits as could be found in the Shire, and they greeted Frodo with a vociferous welcome, for they hadn't seen him since their mutual cousin Berilac Brandybuck's funeral over a year ago.

When Frodo made his apologies for Merry and Pippin's absence, Aunt Beryl was deeply disappointed, but Estella was only thoughtful.

He and Sam told them news of Hobbiton over dinner. Sam was usually shy in company, but he had dined with greater folk than the Bolgers--Tooks and Brandybucks, and the Mayor's family--and could talk about Rose and the baby, and some of Frodo's more peculiar investigations, with ease. Beryl was primarily interested in Frodo's current case; Frodo wouldn't have minded if she could tell him anything about Camellia, but she was so obviously hoping that he could tell her, and there was nothing Frodo wanted to reveal yet. He was hoping to talk to Fatty who, as a young male hobbit, might be better acquainted with Val Stillwaters than the elderly ladies were, but any questions would have to wait until they could speak privately.

After dinner, Fatty invited the guests into his study for a glass of wine and some pipeweed, a custom he had picked up at Brandy Hall. Sam went with him, but as Frodo was leaving the dining room to follow, Estella laid a hand on his arm to detain him.

"Frodo, can I ask you-?" she began softly. "You'll be seeing Merry, won't you?"

"Yes, I will," Frodo answered. "I've asked him and Pippin to join us. We were expecting them this evening."

"Tell me honestly, please: Has he arrived in Budgeford yet? Is he already here at the inn, but wouldn't come to dinner with you, because of me?"

Frodo blushed. He hadn't realized that Estella was aware of how Merry was avoiding her. "He isn't here yet."

The girl looked very sad; Frodo thought he understood why, until she requested, "When you see him, will you give him a message for me? Tell him he needn't be afraid to come. I know he only visits Fatty when I'm away, but please tell him he can come to the house whenever he likes. I'm not silly about him anymore. I see now. I know he couldn't possibly love me."

"It isn't you, 'Stella," Frodo said gently. "He thinks you're a terribly sweet girl, and he's fond of you. It's only..." He hesitated. How could he explain this to an innocent young lady?

But Estella nodded, and said, "Merry doesn't like girls. Oh, I'm sure he likes us well enough to be friendly with, but he doesn't want to marry anybody, except Pippin if it were allowed. I do understand that now. Aunt Beryl's tried to keep it from me--well brought-up young ladies aren't supposed to know such things exist--but I can't help hearing the gossip. Tell Merry, will you? He can come to visit, and I won't make a fool of myself over him. Besides," her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink as she ducked her head and confided, "Ilbie Brandybuck's been calling on me. I told him he could."

"That's marvelous news!" Frodo took her by the shoulders and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Yes, of course, I'll tell Merry. He'll be delighted to hear it. Best of luck to you both."

"We'll need the best luck, I'm afraid."

"Is Aunt Beryl giving you trouble?" He could see that she hadn't given up hope of Merry courting her niece.

Estella looked up at him and smiled. "Oh, I think she'd rather I married the Master's heir, but she has nothing to say against Ilbie. If we were of age, it wouldn't matter so much, but Ilbie's awfully young--only just turned thirty, you know--and I've got two more years before I don't have to ask for Auntie's permission to marry whom I like. So we'll have to wait."

Frodo thought of how Angelica had effectively gotten around this problem, but he couldn't encourage Ilbie and Estella to do the same!

"Aunt Beryl will come around in time," said Estella. "It's Uncle Saradoc. I'm not sure he'll be happy when he hears about it. He hasn't given up on Merry, you see."

---

After he left Estella, Frodo went to Fatty's study, where his cousin and Sam were sitting comfortably by the fire, sipping glasses of dark red wine. Fatty immediately rose and poured out another glass for him.

"Do sit down, Frodo," he said as he handed the glass to Frodo. "I've just been asking your Sam about this Stillwater mystery. I could see you didn't want to talk about it in front of Stel and Auntie Beryl, but I gather that there's more to it than you've let on."

"Sam..?" Frodo gave his friend a reproachful look; Sam's face went red and his mouth dropped open in dismay.

"Don't blame Sam," said Fatty. "I guessed. You see, I heard that there'd been a stranger in Budgeford and all about the Fields a few weeks ago, asking after the Roots. I knew from the description of this mysterious stranger it couldn't be you, dear Frodo, but it sounded very much like your Sam. Well, you mayn't know, but we had something of a to-do hereabouts when the old ostler Root left Whitfurrows all of a sudden back in June and took his granddaughter with him--after the girl was dismissed abruptly from Stillwater Hall. No one knew what it was all about. This happened weeks before the younger Mrs. Stillwaters went missing, so I wondered what you two were up to, and if the one was connected to the other. Will you tell me?" He sank back into his comfortable chair and regarded Frodo expectantly as he gestured for his cousin to have a seat. "I swear nothing you say in this room will go beyond it."

"It was an extremely confidential matter," Frodo said as he sat down. "I can't reveal the details, but it involved some stolen property..." He cast another glance at Sam and wondered what Sam had told Fatty before he'd come in, but there was no way he could ask without giving more away. Fatty was such an indolent and even-tempered hobbit, it was easy to forget that he possessed a fairly sharp mind. Pippin had once joked that Fatty was the only other young hobbit he knew, besides Frodo, who would rather sit home and read a book than go out for an ale.

Perhaps it might be best to take him into their confidence? A source of information here in Budgeford would be invaluable. "I do believe it is connected to Mrs. Stillwaters's disappearance. In fact, it might help us to locate her. I hope you'll be of help as well, Fatty."

"Yes, of course, if I can."

"The difficulty is that I know very little of the people in this case," Frodo explained. "I never met the Stillwaters before today. You've lived near them all your life, Fatty. You must know them. I'd like to have some idea of what Camellia Stillwaters is flying from before I find her, and try to persuade her to return."

Fatty sat forward, elbows on his knees, and stared at Frodo with keen interest. "You've guessed what's happened to her already, haven't you, Frodo?"

"I have an idea, yes," Frodo admitted.

Fatty's eyebrows rose at this. "Well! Aunt Beryl has it that the lady's flown with a lover. I thought it an absurd notion myself, but I can see that your thoughts lie along the same lines, and no doubt with better reason than the usual gossip." He sat back again. "The Stillwaters? Yes, I've known Val, as you say, since I was a little lad--but I can't say what sort of husband he makes. I felt sorry for his wife myself. Not for anything Val did to her, but because she kept to herself, didn't make friends easily. Stel went out of her way to be friends with her. Here, why don't you have a word with Stel? Camellia might have confided in her.

"I can tell you one thing, Frodo: the Stillwaters aren't as wealthy as they're made out to be. Val's quite extravagant--the sort who likes the best of everything and never thinks of the cost. Plus, he games with dice and darts and whatever else people can find to make wagers on. I know for a fact that he's thrown away handfuls of money on the Bridgefield races, and gone to Michel Delving to lose even more. His mother's paid all his debts so far, but she must be feeling the pinch. I won't say Val married for money alone, but a rich wife certainly must have come as welcome! Even if he didn't care a straw for her, he can't have her run off and take her money with her. Val may be something of a ninny, but he's not so foolish when it comes to looking after his own interests."

Sam and Frodo returned to the Inn to find that Merry and Pippin had arrived while they were out, and were finishing their own dinner in the common room.

"We left a message that we were at the Bolgers'," Frodo told them. "You might have joined us."

"We got your message," said Pippin, "but you know how Merry won't go near 'Stella. He's afraid he'll be forced to marry her if he so much as smiles at her."

Frodo stared; this was an oddly catty remark for Pippin to make.

"I'm trying to spare her feelings, and her family's," Merry replied tersely. "I'm very fond of the Bolgers, 'Stella included. There's no point in getting their hopes up."

"That's no reason not to be nice to her," said Pippin. "It isn't her fault your father's pushing you at her, is it? You're brave enough to ride into battle and stab the Lord of the Black Riders, but you won't face one chit of a girl."

Frodo felt as if he'd blundered into the midst of a quarrel between the two and he was certain that whatever their argument was about, it had little to do with Estella Bolger.

"You needn't worry," he told Merry. "Ilbie's courting her. Estella told me so herself. She's asked me to say that she isn't 'silly' about you anymore. She understands about you and Pip."

"Now that is good news!" Merry cried with obvious relief. "I knew Ilbie'd win out, if he was patient and didn't make a nuisance of himself."

"You'll have to call on 'Stella now and be civil, especially if she's going to marry into your family," said Frodo. "I assume they'll take up residence at the Hall."

A maidservant came to clear the table, and the foursome rose to each order a half-pint at the bar. Frodo turned to business: "I'm glad you both came. I'll have work for you to do. I'm thinking of bringing Fatty into this investigation too, since he already knows quite enough about it." He glanced at Sam, who went red in the face again.

"I never told Mr. Fatty about those letters!" Sam protested indignantly. "He asked why I'd been looking for that Root girl, who was Mrs. Stillwaters's maid. What could I say? He knew it was me, and I must be on an errand for you. Then he wanted to know if it had something to do with her being gone."

"And what did you say to that?" Frodo asked.

"Nothing! You came in before it went any further, and you told 'm more'n I did."

"What letters?" asked Merry, looking from Sam to Frodo with curiosity. "And what's this about a maid? You haven't told us much about why you wanted us for this investigation, only that there's a missing lady."

"Not here." Frodo led the group to a double settle at the far end of the room, away from the inn's staff, other diners and merry-makers, so they could talk without being overheard. "Camellia Stillwaters, the missing lady, was a client of mine," he explained in a lowered voice. "You weren't involved with that case. She came to me earlier this summer. Her old love letters had been stolen..." He told his cousins the story now, and how the elder Mrs. Stillwaters had written to him for help. "Her mother-in-law believes she's run off with her cast-off lover, and wants me to bring her back. She doesn't know who the lover is, or where they've gone."

"But you do, don't you, Frodo?" Pippin asked eagerly.

"If she's with flown with Rolo, they've most likely gone to hide in Bindbole Wood, near his home. They might be sheltered by his family." Frodo sighed. "I've been engaged to find Camellia, but I'm concerned for Camellia's welfare as well. She asked for my help before her mother-in-law did, and I want to do my best for her. When I find her, I'll speak to her on Mrs. Stillwaters's behalf. If she wishes to avoid a scandal, Camellia will agree to come home. If she doesn't... well, I don't know yet what I'll do. What can I do? In such a case, there's no way to serve both ladies' interests."

"Why wouldn't Mrs. Camellia want to avoid scandal?" Sam asked.

"She may not care. If she's happier with Rolo than she was with her husband, and he doesn't care for her, then she has no reason to return to her home, except for duty to her family. That may not be enough for to give up her happiness. She might prefer to stay with Rolo, even if it means social disgrace."

Merry grinned. "Being a social disgrace isn't so bad, once you're used to it. You learn not to mind what people say."

"Camellia isn't like you, Merry," said Frodo, thinking of that plain, timid girl who had sat so nervously on his parlor sofa one afternoon. "She left Stillwater Hall without even leaving a note for her husband. I suspect she flew on a moment's impulse, but she hasn't thought through the consequences of her flight. Right now, her mother-in-law is doing her best to keep things quiet, but the secret can't be kept indefinitely. People are already talking. Once the truth is publicly known, it'll be very hard on her. Poor Camellia may find she doesn't have the courage to brazen it out as you and Pip have done."

"She might find courage, if she's in love with this other lad," countered Merry. "Maybe that's enough."

"She did love Rolo," Frodo agreed. "When I last spoke to her, I believed she loved him still."

"She must, if she's run away with him," said Pippin.

Frodo nodded. "It may be difficult for her, and scandalous, but if it's what she wants, then there's nothing I can do. But I do want to help. If I am to speak to Camellia, perhaps advise her on the best course, I need to learn about her situation--why she flew, and whom she's flown with. When I met this Rolo, he seemed decent enough, but there was something odd about the part he played in that business with the letters. I'd like to know more about his character. If he's a scoundrel, she must be made to see it before it's too late.

"I'd also like to know about Camellia's husband, Val. I can't decide if he's an utter fool, indifferent to her, or if he's only trying to conceal an unpleasant truth. All I'm certain of is that he objected to his mother's engaging me to find his wife. He says he doesn't think it necessary to search for her, but I wonder-?" He turned to Merry. "You've been to Budgeford recently, visiting Fatty, and you know this part of the Shire. Are you acquainted with Val Stillwaters?"

"I've seen him about," said Merry. "You know that his mother's one of Great-Aunt Del's select circle of friends. Milo knows him quite well, of course, although I wouldn't call them friends."

"They used to be," Pippin interjected, "but Milo won't speak to him now."

This made sense, if both Milo and Val were ardent pony fanciers from their youth. Frodo wondered what had divided the two. "Fatty tells me Val's a great gambler," he said.

His cousins laughed. "That he is!" said Merry. "As a matter of fact, he was at the Michel Delving races this past Lithetide. We saw him there, but not to speak to. As Pippin says, Milo went out of his way to avoid Val whenever he saw him."

"Can you seek him out tomorrow? There must be some way for the two of you to become better friends with Val Stillwaters. It's too late in the year for races in the Bridgefields," Frodo mused. "All the ponies will be needed to bring in the hay. Maybe Fatty can help. When you talk to Val, you needn't say a word about his wife--I know he won't talk about that. Buy him an ale, play dice with him, encourage him to chat. I want to find out what sort of hobbit he is."

They went to their separate rooms, Merry and Pippin to one, and Sam and Frodo to the other. Frodo changed into his nightshirt and stretched out languidly on the bed. His travels around the Shire on previous investigations had sent him and Sam to other rooms at inns very like this, and he found these overnight stays rather exciting: there was a certain anonymity here, and privacy.

There wasn't much privacy at Bag End lately, not since Sam had married and Rose had moved in with them. The plan of "sharing" he had proposed had worked quite well technically, with Sam spending one night in Rosie's room, and the next in his--but from the first, Frodo had felt somewhat restrained by the knowledge that Rosie was only a few doors away. Even if she couldn't overhear anything--and Sam had chosen a room for his bride far enough from Frodo's to ensure that she didn't--she certainly must have a good idea of what they were up to on the nights she was alone. Frodo had similar thoughts on the nights when Sam slept in his wife's room. And if he was self-conscious at Rosie's proximity, Sam was doubly so.

But, tonight, they were alone.

He turned his head on the pillow to find Sam undressing by the fire and smiled in invitation... but Sam's thoughts seemed to have taken him miles away. All the way back to Bag End, Frodo guessed.

"Don't worry, Sam," he said. "Mrs. Cotton will look after her. She's had four children of her own and knows more about having babies than you or I ever will."

Sam, who was absently buttoning up the front his nightshirt, looked up, surprised that Frodo knew so exactly what he was thinking. "I know Rosie'll be fine with her mum," he answered. "Only, I can't help thinking of her."

"I understand," said Frodo glumly. Rosie might as well be down the hall; she was with them just the same.

Now that there was a baby on the way, Sam rarely spent more than an hour with him on "his nights," but instead returned to sleep beside Rose in case she needed anything. Since he'd learned that she was pregnant, Sam fussed over Rosie as much as he did over Frodo during his bad spells--except that Rosie was in bloomingly good health. Like Angelica, maternity became Rose; she looked lovely, and had an air of secret contentment about her, as if she were always aware of the new life she was carrying.

Frodo tried not to be resentful. He told himself that this was only right. It was natural under the circumstances that he no longer be the center of Sam's life; he couldn't blame either Sam or Rose for behaving in a perfectly normal manner for two recently married young hobbits expecting their first child. He'd wanted Sam to have a family. But now that Rosie and Sam had embarked upon what many hobbits would call the most important business of life--making more hobbits--Frodo couldn't help feeling left out. He didn't like to admit it, but he was feeling his first real stabs of jealousy.

He sat up and held out a hand. "Come to bed, Sam." How could he make his needs plain without sounding as if he were complaining? "I've been looking so forward to being with you tonight. I've missed you."

"Missed me?" Sam looked confused as he sat down on the bed. "But you see me every day!"

"Yes, and some nights too, but it's not the same as it was when I had you to myself."

Sam's face cleared. "I'll stay all night with you, if you want. You said you didn't mind."

"I did say it, and I meant it."

"You know how things'd change once me 'n' Rosie got married. We couldn't go on, same as before, once she was living with us. And now there's the baby."

"Yes, I know," murmured Frodo. He drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his calves. "I don't begrudge that, Sam--honestly, I don't. I knew what would happen when I encouraged you to marry, although I didn't expect a baby so soon. You've barely been married five months!"

"That's long enough sometimes," Sam replied with a small smile.

"I'm happy for you, Sam, and happy about the baby. But we're meant to be sharing, and I don't feel as I've been getting my fair share of your time. When you are with me, even if it's only for an hour or two, I'd like to feel that your thoughts aren't elsewhere. I know it's selfish of me. I understand that it mayn't be easy for you now, with Rosie in her condition, but can you manage it for my sake? Just for a little while?"

"I'll try," Sam answered, and regarded him silently. Then he said, "All right-" and grabbed Frodo by the ankle. A swift tug sent Frodo sprawling--he let out a yelp of surprise as he flopped flat onto his back on the mattress.

His nightshift was swiftly pulled up and pushed into his armpits. Frodo writhed and laughed out loud with ticklish delight as Sam's fingers ran lightly over his bared ribs and belly, and lower--he yipped again and bucked his hips.

Sam took him by the waist to hold him still. "Better?" he asked Frodo.

"Marvelous, thank you."

Sam grinned and his head went down; his tongue flickered over a nipple. Frodo squirmed at the exquisite sensation and he plucked at Sam's hair and shoulders, trying to pull him up so they could kiss. At last, he succeeded. They lay chest to chest, mouths meeting hungrily.

For the first time in a long time, Frodo felt as if he had Sam's full attention, until a shout came from the next room. Sam stopped kissing him and lifted his head to look toward the wall above the headboard.

They could hear people talking in the room next door; the sound was muted so that the words were not clear, but the strident tone was unmistakable and the voices were very familiar.

"Now there's something we haven't heard in awhile," said Sam. "It's almost like old times."

But it wasn't exactly like those days last summer when Merry and Pippin had been staying at Bag End and shared a room near Frodo's. Then, the sounds they'd overheard had been happy. Now, the two were arguing.

After a rapturous night of Sam's undivided attention, Frodo slept well and woke early the next morning. Slipping carefully out of bed, he left Sam asleep, washed and dressed, and went out to find the small, sunny, breakfast room at the far end of a long corridor. Merry was there, sitting alone at a table. They were the only people in the room, apart from the innkeeper's daughter, who had boiling water ready on the hob to make them a pot of tea.

"I'm surprised to see you up at this hour, Frodo!" Merry said cheerfully once the girl had gone to the kitchen to fetch their breakfasts. "We could hear something of what went on in the next room last night."

"We heard a few things too," Frodo confessed. "Merry, I hate to intrude-" but he and Merry had always been able to speak more frankly to each other about personal matters than they could to anyone else, even Pippin and Sam. "Why have you and Pip been quarreling?"

After a moment, Merry answered, "Pippin didn't want to come here. He'll do as you ask to help in this investigation, but he's hoping to go back to Tuckborough as soon as he can."

"To meet that girl his parents want him to marry?"

"She's expected to come for her visit in two weeks," said Merry. "That's not why he wants to go home. His father's promised that he doesn't have to marry her or anybody else he doesn't want to."

Frodo didn't understand. "But-"

"It's another love that's drawing him home: his nephew."

"Nephew? You mean, little Peveril?"

"You haven't been there to see it, Frodo. His sister Pearl lobs that blasted baby at him every chance she gets, and it's done more effective work in bringing him 'round than his mother's nagging or his father's being patient. Peveril's all he can talk about, and he's beginning to think he'd like a baby of his own." Merry laughed bitterly. "I've told him I can't help with that. He'll have to look elsewhere! Just wait 'til he has to change dirty diapers, or sit up all night with a colicky, squalling baby. That won't be so much fun, and he'll soon change his mind about it."

"But you're afraid he won't?"

Merry nodded. "I think he might actually look elsewhere. He says he's only going to be polite to this North-Took girl, but I know he'll end up marrying her--not because he loves her, or because it's what his family wants, but because he can have children with her. It's the one thing he can never have with me."

Frodo was sympathetic; he knew exactly what his cousin was feeling. He'd gone through the same thing with Sam. "You can't keep him from it, Merry, if it is what he truly wants. After all, it's only-"

"Only natural," Merry finished for him with a note of sarcasm. "Every hobbit wants lots of babies. Well, that need seems to be entirely missing in me. I like little children well enough once they get out of diapers and are old enough to talk and play games with, but I never wanted a child of my own. You feel the same way, don't you?"

"I thought about it once," Frodo admitted. "Last year, when I considered marrying Melly. She wanted children, of course, and for a moment or two I wondered if I could give them to her. Even if I could, it wouldn't have been fair to her, or the child. I wouldn't be there to see it grow up." Merry reached across the table to take his hand; Frodo gripped his cousin's fingers as he went on, "It wasn't easy for me to let Sam go to Rosie when he wanted a wife and family of his own, but I couldn't keep him from it just to make myself happy. We can't fight nature, Merry, any more than we can change it in ourselves."

"At least, you and Sam and Rosie seem to have worked things out between you."

"Oh, we've had our difficulties adjusting, all three of us!" Frodo laughed, perhaps a little nervously. "But it's what we all agreed to and we're trying our best."

"I wish we could do the same," said Merry. "I wouldn't mind it so much if I had to share Pip with a wife, but I don't see us setting up house together in either Tuckborough or Buckland." He sighed, then gave his cousin a soft smile. "You've always had an extremely generous heart, Frodo. I don't know if I can be as unselfish as you, but I won't keep Pippin with me if he doesn't want to stay. I couldn't anyway. I wonder if, in the end, it'll be just you and me left."

"If we are," Frodo rejoined, "then I'll marry you."

His cousin laughed. "If we are," he rejoined, "I just may take you up on that."

After breakfast, the four hobbits paid a call at the Bolger smial. Beryl was delighted to see Merry, until she understood that he was there to congratulate Estella on her prospective betrothal to Ilberic. While Merry was speaking with Estella, Frodo sought out Fatty and explained the errand he wanted his cousins to undertake; Fatty had a few ideas of Val Stillwaters's favorite haunts, and was happy to help.

Once the three lads had gone in search of Val, Frodo had a word with Estella about her friendship with Camellia.

"No, she didn't confide in me," Estella reported. "I wish she had. She seemed to have something heavy on her heart this summer, and I would've liked to help her, if only I knew what to do. A kind word from a friend might have kept her from going away. I hope she's all right."

When they left the Bolgers' house, Frodo and Sam rode out to Stillwater Hall. Frodo went inside to speak with his client, while Sam stayed outdoors to have a look around the gardens.

Verbena Stillwaters was in her drawing-room, as she had been the day before, and she smiled in welcome as Frodo came in. "I'm glad you haven't abandoned us, Mr. Baggins, after Val was so brusque with you."

"I do understand that he's as anxious as you are to keep this matter from being widely known," Frodo said diplomatically.

"In spite of his inexcusable behavior, he's really quite concerned about Camellia and will be happy to see her home again," said Val's mother. "You will continue, won't you?"

"I've come to do just that, Mrs. Stillwaters. Yesterday, our conversation was interrupted when your son came in, and there were one or two points that I wanted to clear up. If you've no objection, may I do so now?" Frodo requested.

"Certainly." She smiled. "I can assure you that Val won't interrupt today. He's always out at this hour, and won't return until at least tea-time. What is it you'd like to know? I'll answer whatever questions I can."

"You said that your daughter-in-law left her belongings behind. May I see them, please?"

Mrs. Stillwaters showed him to Camellia's bedroom. It was a newly furnished and tidy room, laid out as if its occupant might return at a moment's notice. A hairbrush lay on the dressing table and, beside it, a locked jewelry box. On a small round table beneath the window sat the portable writing desk Camellia had spoken of: a flat, lacquered wooden box with a slightly slanted, hinged lid, designed to sit on a lady's lap while she attended to her correspondence.

It seemed odd to Frodo that Camellia should leave this behind. The writing desk was unlocked; he opened it and looked over the neat little compartments for paper, pens, and an inkpot. Delicately, he ran his fingers over the panel at the back, pushed, and it slid aside to reveal another, hidden compartment. Empty. Camellia had at least taken her letters with her, or found a safer hiding place for them.

He turned to examine the rest of the room before Mrs. Stillwaters should notice his particular interest in the desk. There were a few books of poetry and fairy stories on the shelves beside the fireplace. A tall, oaken wardrobe was filled with dresses, and a chest of drawers contained a froth of lace-edged petticoats, camisoles, and pantalets.

"She took nothing with her?" asked Frodo, blushing as he swiftly shut a drawer full of underclothes.

"I don't believe she returned to the house that night," said Mrs. Stillwaters. "My daughter-in-law's maid left us rather abruptly some weeks ago, and we haven't yet engaged another. My own maid had been attending Camellia as well as myself, and she can answer for the clothing. I've been through the wardrobe with her, and we are certain that all of Camellia's clothing, save those she was wearing, are here."

"You said that she went out for a walk after dinner."

"Yes, that's so. We dined alone, the two of us."

"Your son wasn't here?"

"Val was dining out with friends, and didn't come home until late," Mrs. Stillwaters answered. "It was a fine, still evening and when we rose from the table, Camellia said she didn't wish to sit indoors. She went out through the dining-room door that opens onto the garden. I last saw her walking toward the apple orchard that lies behind the house. I went to bed soon after, and when I came to breakfast in the morning, she wasn't there. I leaned that no one had seen her since the night before."

"Didn't Val notice she was gone when he came in?" Frodo asked.

"No. You see..." She glanced discreetly at the open door at the end of the room. Frodo peeked in. Apparently, Camellia and Val had separate bedrooms, connected by a bath and small dressing-room, where Val kept his own clothes. This wasn't so unusual an arrangement for wealthy hobbits who lived in spacious homes--his Aunt Esmeralda and Uncle Saradoc had had separate rooms at Brandy Hall for as long as Frodo could recall--but it seemed odd that newlyweds would choose to sleep apart.

"One last question, Mrs. Stillwaters," he said. "Yesterday, before Val joined us, you began to tell me something about the boy you suspect Camellia's run off with. You said he'd been seen."

"Yes, but not by me," said Mrs. Stillwaters. "As you may imagine, once we missed Camellia, we searched the grounds for her. I was afraid she might have been injured, or taken ill. Our gardener saw her in the orchard. He said that she was not alone. She'd been joined by a hobbit-lad. It was twilight and our Mr. Rakeweed's eyes aren't what they used to be. He couldn't distinguish more than a figure under the trees. It was then I began to think of what I'd heard about Camellia's old, unsuitable attachment. Of course, I have not told Val any of this."

Frodo thanked Mrs. Stillwaters, then went to the dining-room. He opened the door to the garden, and stepped outside to look out over a trim green lawn, more freshly planted flower-beds around a larger lily-pond, and an apple orchard beyond a low stone wall some hundred yards distant. Camellia had gone out of the Hall this way, up into the orchard, and then..?

What Mrs. Stillwaters had told him confirmed his own impressions: Camellia may have been growing discontented with her marriage--perhaps suspecting that she'd refused one fortune hunter only to wed another--but she hadn't planned her departure in advance. She may have arranged to meet Rolo in the orchard that evening, or merely encountered him there by chance, but once they had met, she'd decided to leave with him immediately. What, if anything, had spurred that impulsive choice?

Frodo thought he ought to speak to the Hall gardener himself, but as he went around to the front of the house, he saw that Sam had anticipated him and was already chatting with the old hobbit on friendly terms.

Although Frodo had asked him to look around the Hall property and talk to any servants he happened to meet, investigation was not the foremost thing on Sam's mind when he'd struck up a conversation with Mr. Rakeweed ten minutes earlier. After viewing the gardens, Sam was naturally eager to speak with the gardener responsible for such magnificent grounds, and hastened to give the elderly hobbit a hand with the wheelbarrow full of mulch he was carting across the front lawn.

"'Though I like a garden that's got a bit more hill to it," Sam concluded his compliments. "The soil drains better downhill."

"Aye, it does," Mr. Rakeweed agreed, "but when you've been on a place like this as long as I've been, you get to learn its little tricks." He considered Sam slowly, but with curiosity. "Gardener yourself, are you, lad?"

"Yes, sir." They were soon in a mutually pleasant and instructive discussion of different types of soil, how well each held moisture, and which plants grew best where. Sam was much more comfortable talking about gardening than he was about ponies. He was in his element here. The old hobbit reminded him so much of his own father that he knelt on the lawn beside Mr. Rakeweed to help him weed the flower beds and bank them with handfuls of mulch just as readily as he'd always helped the Gaffer.

After awhile, Mr. Rakeweed sat back, got out his pipe, considered Sam again, and chuckled. "When I was getting my morning mug o' tea, I heard tell from them as works in the kitchens how Missus Verbena'd brought in that detective fellow to look for the young Missus. If you're him, my lad, you're naught like I thought you'd be! 'Tis a pleasure talking t'you."

Sam blushed, as he always did when people assumed that he was the famous investigator, and hastened to correct the assumption. "No, 'm not him--I only came here with him today. He's in the Hall now, talking with Mrs. Stillwaters... about the troubles." He wondered how much the old gardener knew. After he'd said too much to Fatty Bolger last night, and upset Frodo, Sam was anxious not to give anything away this time.

"I could tell 'm a thing or two, if I'd a mind to," said Mr. Rakeweed.

"Could you?"

Mr. Rakeweed nodded, and looked pleased with himself as Sam waited for him to say more. At last, the old hobbit went on: "I told the Missus myself, 'bout the lad I saw off in the orchard-" he waved his pipe in the direction of the trees beyond the Hall, "the same night as the young Missus was last seen. I seen the two of 'em there, talking-like, and then they walked off by way of the Brandywine."

"Are we that close to the river?" Sam asked, surprised.

"It runs not five miles from where we're sitting," Mr. Rakeweed answered. "Take the lane on t'other side of the orchard, and you'll be there in ten minutes."

"This lad, d'you know who he was?"

"'Twas too dark to see his face, but I guess I know. I seen the lad afore, about the Hall grounds. Mr. Val or the old Missus hired him to help turn up the flower beds 'round the ponds for spring planting. There's a lot of 'em, as you see, and more behind the house. Missus Verbena'll bring a young lad or two in to do the work when the job's too hard on my old back. All this stooping and kneeling's hard on a back when you get to be my age. I don't mind 'em coming in, so long as they keep out from underfoot and the job's done proper."

"And was it done proper?" Sam looked at the flower beds around them; the late-summer flowers seemed to be growing beautifully, and were very nicely arranged.

"Some bits better'n others," Mr. Rakeweed grunted, and Sam wondered if he minded more about the younger gardener than he let on. "Some o' the bulbs in the back-garden grew up every-which way, as if the lad popped 'em in willy-nilly. I expect he didn't think it mattered so much 'round behind the house where nobody'd see."

"You told Mrs. Stillwaters about this lad?" he asked. And had she told Frodo?

"That I did. Now, Missus Verbena han't gone telling tales about it, but I can guess for myself what that lad was about with young Missus." He chuckled grimly. "I'll wager anything he's made off with her! What was they headed to the Brandywine for? He tossed her in! Mark my words--she'll wash up downriver sooner or later. They always do."

And that was when Sam saw Frodo come around from behind the house.

Fatty, Merry, and Pippin began looking for Val Stillwaters by visiting the places Fatty thought he was most likely to be. They went to the stables where Val kept several ponies for racing, then tried the taproom of the Beeshive Tavern in Whitfurrows and some of the smaller pubs in and around the town. They started off by buying a half-pint in each place to avoid looking suspicious, but grew dangerously wobbly by mid-afternoon. On the road east toward the Brandywine Bridge, they stopped to lie down in a meadow for awhile before going on to their last destination.

"We can't go on like this for the rest of the day," Pippin giggled as he flopped down into the tall grass. "We'll be falling-over drunk by the time we find 'm!"

"How many more places are we going to try?" Merry sat down with his back against a tree and asked Fatty, who was sitting nearby with his head in his arms.

It was a moment before Fatty replied, "One or two more. There's a little pub, not far from the Bridge, I thought we'd try next." He lifted his head. "Is this what all Frodo's investigations are like?"

"For our part, yes," said Merry. "We go riding all about the Shire, looking for people, hiding in the underbrush to follow 'em, hanging about pubs to pick up gossip-"

"Lots of pubs!" Pippin added with a laugh.

Fatty shook his head. "It's awful wearying work. I don't mind giving Frodo a hand, but I'd like it better if this detecting meant sitting in my study, smoking a good pipe and thinking things over."

His cousins burst into riotous laughter. "That's Frodo's job!" said Pippin as he struggled to sit upright. "When it's your investigation, Fatty, you can do that too, and send all your friends and relatives running about on errands."

They were still laughing when a rider came up the road toward them from Whitfurrows, a hobbit in a bright red-and-gold striped waistcoat. Fatty's eyes went wide at the sight. "It's him! Get down!" And he flung himself into the grass, shoving Pippin down beside him.

Merry crouched low behind his tree, and watched as Val rode past. "Where's he going to?"

"Probably to that pub I was telling you about," said Fatty. "It's where the farmlads from the Bridgefields gather at the day's end. It's a famous place for dicing. The farmers won't be in at this time of day, but I know Val goes there now 'n' again."

Pippin, muffled under Fatty's outstretched arm across his face, had begun to yelp, "Get off! Get off!" until Fatty moved and let him up. Once Val had gone out of sight down the road, the trio fetched their ponies from the meadow and went after him. As they approached the little pub, which lay some way off the road, they saw Val hadn't gone there at all. He was standing on the Bridge itself, leaning on the railing and looking down into the broad sweep of ale-brown water. Even at several hundred yards' distance, his colorful waistcoat was conspicuous among the brown leather coats of the bridgemen and the worn tweeds of the old gaffers who had gathered to fish in from the river.

"Val, hullo!" As the three drew nearer the Bridge, Fatty shouted.

Val looked up, surprised. "Fredegar Bolger? What brings you out this way?"

"I wondered the same about you, Val! We were just going to pop in over yonder." Fatty waved in the direction of the pub, just visible through the trees. They were close enough now that there was no longer a need to shout. "Won't you join us in a half-pint? I believe you know my cousins."

"I know Merry Brandybuck, of course," Val said pleasantly, and nodded to him in greeting. "And you're the Took lad, aren't you? Peregrin?" Then, as he considered the trio, his expression grew less pleasant. "You're all related to Mr. Baggins, the investigator, aren't you?"

"Well, yes," said Pippin, "to one degree or another."

"I daresay half the gentlehobbits in the Shire can say the same," added Fatty. "You might say so yourself, Val. Your mother's a Goldworthy, after all, and they've married into the Brandybucks..." This venture into genealogy trailed off as Val's eyes grew wider and his face suddenly turned very pale.

"Here-" as his gaze flitted quickly from Pippin to Merry to Fatty and back again, his voice shook. "Here- Have you been following me? Has Mr. Baggins sent the lot of you after me?"

"Val, no-"

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm showing Pip and Merry the best places to have a drink and a bit of fun-" Fatty tried to offer the explanation he and the others had agreed upon before they'd set out in search of Val.

"I mean--why have they come here to Budgeford, now?" Val asked. "You're here because he asked you. It isn't enough that I have to endure this gossip, and let investigators pry into my private affairs, I must be spied upon too! It really is the limit! What's Mr. Baggins after? I know he doesn't believe Cammie's only gone away. Does he suspect me of making away with her, or something equally monstrous?"

"Of course not!" Fatty exclaimed, horrified at the idea.

"I want you to tell Mr. Baggins something for me." Val's voice was still quavering with emotion. "Tell him that just before Camellia left, she spoke of visiting a friend of hers, Angelica Whitfoot--another cousin of his! If he wishes to find Cammie, I suggest he begin his search there!"

That afternoon, when all the hobbits returned to the Inn, they gathered in Frodo's and Sam's room. Fatty, who was feeling a trifle unsteady, made his excuses and went home to have a nap before dinner. Merry and Pippin described their encounter with Val, and Sam repeated the old gardener's story about the lad seen with Camellia, which he had already told Frodo on their way back from Stillwater Hall.

"It must've been Rolo," said Pippin. "Who else could it be? Maybe your gardener's got the right idea, Sam, and he shoved her into the river because she wouldn't marry him. That's no doubt why Val was hanging around the Bridge today, looking for her."

Sam rolled his eyes at this japery. "You don't believe what Mr. Rakeweed said, do you, Frodo?"

"About the river? No. That this same lad was seen around Stillwater Hall before he and Camellia walked away together? Yes. I'm sure Pip's right--it must be Rolo." Pippin grinned, and Frodo went on, "But I must admit that I can't fathom what he's been up to. There are one or two things about him that puzzle me."

"You said that last night, that there was something odd about the whole business with the letters," said Merry.

"Very odd," Frodo answered. "How did Rolo know that those letters had been stolen if he didn't have something to do with Betula's taking them? And how did he just happen to be in Frogmorton to buy them? He seems a little too jack-on-the-spot. It can't be a coincidence. I didn't bother about it at the time, since the letters had been returned and I thought the matter was at an end, but I want to look into it now. It may be important. If Rolo was involved in the theft, why return the letters to me the instant he learned that we were looking for them? It can't be for the money. He was offended when I offered to reimburse him."

"Maybe he was afraid of you," Pippin said, teasing. "He knew your reputation, and knew you'd catch up with him sooner or later, so he might as well give up."

"Maybe he wanted to get back into Camellia's favor?" Merry suggested more seriously. "She'd be so grateful that he bought her letters to give to her that she'd agree to see him again."

"After he stole them from her?" asked Frodo.

"Well, he wouldn't tell her about that. He'd tell her how he'd chased down those scoundrels and rescued her property for love of her. He'd make himself the hero of the tale. If she was seeing him, it must've worked."

"Perhaps..." Frodo fell into a pensive silence, eyes growing unfocused as he sat curled at the foot of the bed and nibbled on a thumbnail. The others waited patiently until he lifted his head, rose, and went to the writing desk. He took a sheet of blank notepaper out of the drawer, and began hunting for a quill and ink. "We're leaving Budgeford," he announced. "I'll ask Fatty to keep his ears open for interesting news while we're gone, but I expect to return here before next week is out. I'm going to send you all on errands. Merry--and you too, Pip, if you aren't going home-"

"I'll go with Merry," Pippin answered.

"Good lad! I want you two to ride to Bindbole Wood. See if you can trace Rolo, find out if he's with his family, or if he has a lady with him. Be discreet."

"Do you want us to talk to them?" Merry asked.

"No, only see if they're there. When you find out, come and tell me. I'll speak to Camellia myself." Frodo turned to Sam. "Sam, you're to go to the Polwygle Inn at Frogmorton and speak to Betula Root. I want to know: Did she know Rolo Bindbole before he bought those letters from her? Did he ask her to take them, or did she have the idea on her own? If it was Betula's own mischief, what did she mean to do with them? I rather doubt it was her idea. Someone put her up to it. We've heard the local gossip that she'd been in some sort of trouble with a lad. Who was he? Jorly? Rolo? Someone else? I'm sure you can get the truth out of the girl. After you've done that, dear Sam, I want you to go home. You've earned a few days with Rosie." He looked around at his cousins. "We'll all meet at Bag End when we've finished our jobs."

"What about you?" asked Sam. "Where're you going?"

"I'm going home too. I have a few errands to run there myself." Frodo found an inkpot and a box of quills. "We've learned some interesting things here, but I can find out more in Hobbiton. There are one or two people I want to speak to. I intend to take Mr. Stillwaters's advice." He sat down at the desk to write a letter to Angelica, asking her to meet him at the Old Baggins Place on the coming Highday.

After Frodo had mailed his letter, he returned to the inn to join Sam and his cousins for dinner. He found Val was also in the common-room, waiting to speak to him. Even in the dim fire- and candlelight, the red-and-gold waistcoat was dazzling.

"Mr. Baggins, I've come to apologize," Val said, stepping forward to greet Frodo as he came in. "I was very short with your kinsmen today-" he bowed slightly in the direction of Merry and Pippin, who were seated with Sam at a table some distance away. "And I was rude to you yesterday, when Mother engaged your services. I hope you'll pardon my unforgivable behavior."

"Yes, of course," said Frodo. This turn of events was surprising, but Val sounded sincerely contrite.

At Frodo's acceptance of his apology, Val smiled. "I'm so glad you understand. It's no excuse, but this has been a most unpleasant and awkward situation for me."

"You must be distressed about your wife."

"Yes," Val agreed. "It hasn't been easy for me to acknowledge that Camellia might not have gone visiting after all. Nor is it easy for a gentleman to have a lot of strangers asking questions about his wife and prying into private affairs that should be nobody's business but his own." He met Frodo's eyes meaningfully and, in a lowered voice, murmured, "I'm sure you know just how I feel, Mr. Baggins. You've been the subject of gossip yourself."

Frodo felt the blood rush to his face. He knew exactly what Val was alluding to: last year, before Sam's marriage to Rosie had quashed the gossip around Hobbiton, there had been rumors about their relationship--all quite true, but disastrous for them both if it was ever openly acknowledged. He hadn't realized that the gossip had gotten so far.

"You- ah- won't have to put up with our prying much longer," he answered. "We'll be leaving Budgeford in the morning."

Val's eyebrows rose. "Surely you haven't given up so easily?"

"No--I'm going to speak to my cousin Angelica, as you suggested."

"So they told you about that?" Val glanced at the other hobbits at the table again; all three were watching with avid curiosity. Sam was especially alert. "I hope you didn't think I was implying Mrs. Whitfoot had anything to do with Camellia's departure?"

"Not at all," Frodo assured him. He would have written to Angelica in any case.

"It's only that I know she and Camellia are girlhood friends, and girl-friends usually confide their secrets to each other," Val explained. "I had the pleasure to meet Mrs. Whitfoot at Michel Delving earlier this summer. A charming young lady, and quite a handsome one. That seems to run in your family."

"Er- yes." Frodo felt bewildered and somewhat lost. He didn't know what to make of this. Was Camellia's husband flirting with him? He'd had a long experience of Sam's unspoken devotion, before he'd coaxed Sam into saying what he felt, and some experience of Merry's playful kisses, but no older male hobbit had ever spoken to him this way before. Or was he mistaken, and was Val simply trying to win him over by flattery?

"Well, I shan't keep you from your supper a moment longer. I wish you the best of luck in your inquiries, Mr. Baggins. Mother and I will be most grateful when my dear wife is returned home and this dreadful business is ended. Good evening to you." With another little bow, Val turned to leave.

"So that's Mr. Stillwaters," Sam said, watching warily as the gentleman exited. "What did he want?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Frodo admitted, and sat down to eat his dinner in some confusion.

On their way home the next day, Frodo and Sam stopped at the Polwygle Inn in Frogmorton. Merry and Pippin had not gone with them, but had taken the northern road to Bindbole Wood, past Scary and Brockenborings. Frodo hadn't intended to be present when Sam interviewed Betula, but she was already there as they entered the common room.

At the sight of Sam, the girl looked angry and embarrassed, but she came to their table. "Is this him?" she asked Sam. "Your detective?"

"This is Mr. Baggins," Sam replied. "We've got more questions to ask you, Bet."

"Miss Root, I presume," said Frodo. "How do you do? And how is your friend, Jorly?"

"Jorly's still at the stables with Grand-dad," Betula replied sullenly. "Only, he an't my friend anymore. We fell out--and that's your doing." She glared at Sam.

"Now, you can't blame me for what was your own work," Sam scolded.

"If you hadn't come here, offering us gold for those letters, we'd've been happy with what we'd got, and never quarreled."

"That was your own work as well," said Frodo. "You must take some responsibility for the results of your avarice."

The girl looked confused. "Ava- What is it?"

"Greed, Miss Root," he explained.

"I never!"

"Why'd you take those letters then?" Sam asked her. "Wasn't it in hopes of getting some money for 'em? Or did somebody pay you to do it?"

"No!" she shot back.

"Then what put it into your head?" asked Frodo. "Or should I say whom?"

"Say 'who' or 'what,' just as you like," Betula retorted. "I don't have to tell you nothing! I've been in enough trouble over them letters as it is, and I won't say no more."

"We don't mean to make trouble for you, Miss Root," Frodo persisted, "but we must know. Did Jorly put you up to it? Or was it Rolo Bindbole? Did you ever see him before he bought those letters from you? Did you know him in Budgeford?"

But Betula had shut her mouth tightly and refused to speak another word.

---

"I don't think it was that Jorly," Sam said as they rode the last miles toward Hobbiton. "Not that he wouldn't go in for thievery, but I'd say he didn't know her then. When Betula's grand-dad told me about her troubles, he sounded as if the stable-lad and the other one was different--he'd took her away from the one, and she'd met up with the other lad once they'd come to Frogmorton. Fell in with him, you might say, as they're as matched a pair of mischief-making scoundrels as ever I saw!"

"I expect you're right, Sam. It must be Rolo. We know he's been seen around the Hall for some time, and she shut right up when I spoke his name. He's probably been behind this business all the time, just as Merry says, as a trick to win Camellia back." Frodo sighed. "Poor Camellia. It looks as if she's traded an unhappy situation for a worse one."

"Will you tell her that?"

"I'll have to, but I'd like to have some proof of what I say. If she loves Rolo, it'll be hard for her to accept the truth."

They left their ponies at the stable and walked to Bag End. As they came up the hill, Rosie came out of the house and rushed down to meet them at the front gate; she threw her arms around Sam and gave him a kiss. "Sam, love! I didn't think you'd be home for days!"

They went up the steps to Bag End arm in arm, Rosie chattering happily. Frodo followed. He would let Rosie have Sam tonight. It was only fair, after he'd had Sam all to himself for two days, and he was weary after the exertions of his first serious investigation after so long. He intended to rest before he went to the Old Place tomorrow afternoon.

The Old Baggins Place was one of the oldest smials in Hobbiton, the property of Frodo's aged Aunt Dora. Dora Baggins lived there with her niece, Peony Burrows, Peony's husband Milo, and their four children. Angelica had also been a resident of the house for awhile before her marriage, when her parents had sent her to help look after the old lady in hopes that Dora would leave the Old Place to her.

As he walked up to the Old Baggins place that day, Frodo thought how little had changed since his visits there last year. The four little Burrowses were playing on top of the smial, but came running down to greet him with eager shouts and hugs when he came in at the gate. Peony met him at the front door, kissed his cheek, said that the family was just having their tea, and brought him into the best parlor, where Dora sat in her overstuffed favorite chair by the fireplace. Angelica sat on a tuffet beside her great-aunt, and Milo was standing at the hearth, leaning with his elbow on the mantelpiece. The only difference from the old days was that Dora was not knitting, but dandling Angelica's baby and cooing over Willa delightedly.

"What a pretty little darling you are! What a precious thing!" Then she looked up to find him. "Frodo, dear boy, how wonderful to see you! I heard you were coming to tea today. Do come in, please. Sit down!"

Frodo sat down in the chair on the other side of the fire, and smiled as he said, "How are you, Auntie? I'm glad to see you've been won over." He knew that Angelica's marriage to Lad had been a great disappointment to Aunt Dora, but Willa was apparently making up for it.

"Oh, what's done is done, I always say, and Angelica's made her choice," Dora replied generously. "At least she's had a lovely baby--golden curls, and such beautiful big, blue eyes! I'd always hoped to see my Angelica have children with eyes as blue as her own... or yours, dear Frodo. What luck that the sweet little mite hasn't taken after her father!"

Milo ducked his head down into the curve of his elbow, and made a choked sort of sound that might have been a cough or a desperate effort not to laugh.

Dora looked up at him with concern. "Are you catching a cold, dear?"

"No, Auntie," Milo answered in a constrained voice. "Only something in my throat."

"It's all that smoking you gentlemen do. Peony ought to take better care of you. A nice cup of chamomile tea with honey will fix you up." Dora gave the baby to its mother, and rose to go to the kitchen. "I'll make it for you while the water's still hot."

"Auntie, you needn't on my account-"

"Nonsense, dear. It's just the thing for a cough. Mind you drink it instead of the usual tea today."

"Yes, Auntie," Milo surrendered and, once the old lady had left the room, laughed out loud.

"Uncle Milo," Angelica said reproachfully.

"I'm sorry, my dear, but it was too funny." Milo was still chuckling. "Aunt Dora never gives up, does she? It's a lucky thing poor Lad wasn't here to hear her! I wager she'll still be saying such things even after you and he have been married ten years and have a dozen children."

"They'll have to have twins or triplets to manage that," said Peony, who had come in with the tea tray while her husband was speaking. She set the tray down on the low table between the two chairs and poured out cups of tea, giving one to Frodo first. "It's good to see you up and around, Frodo, after you've been ill for so long. Are you investigating again?

"As a matter of fact, I am," Frodo answered as he took the cup.

"I heard you've been to visit Mother," said Milo.

"Yes, that's right. A friend of hers has asked me to locate a person, the lady's daughter-in-law, who's gone missing."

Milo, his wife, and Angelica exchanged glances. "You mean Cammie Stillwaters," said Peony.

Frodo nodded. "Has the news reached Hobbiton already?"

"Not all of it," Peony answered. "We've only heard that she's gone and no one knows to where. And when Angelica came this morning and said she'd gotten a letter from you from Budgeford, asking to meet her here, we wondered if you'd been engaged to find the girl."

"I thought Angelica might be of help. You're Camellia's best friend--you don't have any idea where she might be, do you?" Frodo turned to ask Angelica, who shook her head. "When did you last hear from her?"

"About three weeks ago," said Angelica. "She wrote me to say that she was coming to visit her aunt and uncle next week--last week, that would be now--and would I meet her here in Hobbiton? She said she would write again once she'd arrived... but I never had another word from her. I assumed that she'd been delayed and would write again soon, until I heard the news that she was missing. I'm glad you're looking for her, Frodo." She glanced at her own aunt and uncle. "We all want to help. What can we do?"

"I'd like to talk to the Bilburys," Frodo explained. "They're friends of yours, aren't they?"

"Friends of Ponto's and Porto's," said Peony, referring to her elder brothers, "but we know them."

"Can you arrange an introduction for me? I'd like to ask them about their niece, but I'd rather not have them know that I'm investigating the matter yet."

Peony nodded knowingly; she had helped Frodo to get into other hobbits' homes before.

"We can manage it," Angelica said confidently.

Dora returned with the chamomile tea, which Milo sipped even though he didn't like the taste of chamomile. After they chatted awhile of other things, Angelica put the baby down for a nap and Peony gave her children their tea in the kitchen. Milo invited Frodo into the garden to smoke; Dora shook her head disapprovingly as the two gentlemen went outdoors.

"Peony and 'Gelica are very keen to get involved in this investigation of yours," Milo said as he lit his pipe. "They're worried about the missing girl, of course, but I remember how excited Peony was when she helped out in that business with the lost jewelry last autumn. I imagine you want to do the same sort of thing now, and they'll do their best to get you into the Bilbury house--and go with you. Is there anything I can do?"

"Actually, Milo, there is," said Frodo. "I didn't just come to see Angelica. I wanted particularly to ask you about Camellia's husband, Val Stillwaters. You know him quite well, don't you?"

"As well as I want to," Milo answered after a moment's hesitation.

"You used to be friends, but you've quarreled. Merry and Pippin tell me that you went out of your way to avoid Val when you saw him at the Lithetide races."

"So, Merry and Pippin are acting as your spies and carrying tales again." But Milo spoke without rancor; he sounded almost amused. "You'll have all your relatives working for you before this is at an end. Well, I've nothing to hide with regard to Val Stillwaters. There was no quarrel, Frodo. I simply grew sick of the sight of him. Why do you what to know?"

"I'd like to learn what sort of hobbit he is," Frodo explained. "It might tell me what's happened to his wife."

Milo laughed. "Oh, I can tell you just what sort of hobbit Val is! After that business with Lotho, you know the worst of my excesses. Val's are at least as bad. We were quite close friends when we were lads. His father and mine used to take us to the Bridgefield races together. Val was the one who first encouraged me to wager more than I could afford to. He said a gentleman never gave a thought to his money or how he spent it. And he was right--you don't, until you haven't got a penny left. Then it becomes very important. I didn't mind it so much when I was a young lad and answerable to no one but myself, but after I married Peony and had a family to provide for- You know how that turned out. I've finally got myself out of that pit, but it's best that I stay clear of Val hereafter. I would have hoped that a good, sensible wife might bring him to his senses, as Peony's helped me, but if you're suggesting that Cammie's left Val over his gambling..." Milo studied Frodo's face speculatively for some clue as to his thoughts.

"I don't suggest it," said Frodo, "but I wondered if it had something to do with it."

"It's possible, certainly, but I think that if she's gone away over that, she would've returned to her aunt and uncle's house. Where else would she go? Unless," Milo looked over Frodo's face again, "I remember there was something about a boy, before Cammie married, that the aunt and uncle didn't approve of. Angelica could no doubt tell you all about it."

"Yes, she could," Frodo murmured. Poor Camellia. It was beginning to look as if neither choice, lover or husband, was very promising for her happiness. He had no idea what advice he would give when he found her.

Angelica came to Bag End late the next morning, dressed in her best lace blouse, a skirt and bodice of robin's-egg blue, and a flowered bonnet with long ribbons dangling down her back.

"It's been arranged," she announced when Frodo, who'd been keeping an eye out for visitors, answered the door. "You and I are going to pay a call on the Bilburys. Aunt Peony wanted to go with us, but little Minto isn't feeling well, so she's stayed home to look after him. I've promised to tell her about it when we return. Papa will accompany us instead. He'll lend a touch of respectability to our visit, and the Bilburys won't suspect a thing. He doesn't approve of your investigating, but I've explained how important this is, and he's agreed to take us." Angelica looked over her cousin's comfortable old trousers and shirt. "Go and get dressed, Frodo. Something nice and presentable- Oh, hello, Sam." She turned with a smile as Sam came into the front hall to find out what was going on. "How is Rose?"

"She's doing wonderful well, Mrs. Whitfoot..." Sam began to answer as Frodo excused himself and went to his room to change. Sam joined him a few minutes later, after Rosie had come out to speak to Angelica herself.

"I didn't know Mrs. Angelica was going with you today," Sam grumbled as he went through Frodo's wardrobe to find a clean, pressed shirt and pick out a paisley waistcoat. "You didn't say a word about it, nor asked me to come along."

Frodo smiled at the faint note of jealousy he heard his Sam's voice. "Angelica's the best person to be of help in this case. Our missing lady is her friend, and she knows the family. As long as she's willing to help, I'll let her do as she likes." He put on and buttoned the shirt Sam handed him. "Besides, you know how you hate paying social calls."

Sam conceded that he did.

"Admit it: you'd much rather be here at home with Rosie than wearing your velvet coat and sitting with me in some stranger's parlor." Frodo put on his waistcoat, and gave Sam a quick kiss. "I may stop for lunch at Aunt Dora's if I'm asked, but expect me back in time for tea." And he went out to join Angelica, who was waiting in the sitting room.

"I didn't like to say so in front of Aunt Peony and Uncle Milo," Angelica said as they walked together to the other side of Hobbiton, "but Cammie's run off with that boy, hasn't she?"

Angelica was not only Camellia's friend and his assistant now; she had brought him into this in the first place. Frodo decided that she had a right to know the whole truth. "Yes. Her mother-in-law has asked me to find her, as discreetly as possible, and convince her to come home before there's a scandal."

His cousin nodded solemnly. "I thought it must be so. I must say, I'm relieved to hear it is that, rather than that something horrible has happened to her."

"Do you think the Bilburys know, or suspect?" Frodo asked.

"They won't admit to it if they do. It'd be acknowledging a family disgrace!" Angelica took his arm. "Frodo, I have a favor to ask. You mean to ask the Bilburys if they've heard from Cammie, or know where she is, don't you? Will you let me begin? It won't look so odd if I ask questions about Cammie as if I'm concerned for her--which I am. If Cammie's aunt and uncle have any secrets to hide, it'd only put them on their guard if you start out of the blue."

Frodo consented.

They arrived at a pair of smials next to each at the foot of the Hill, each with a round, red door, as alike as two ripe cherries. Ponto Baggins and his wife lived in one; Ponto's brother Porto and his wife lived in the other. The brothers too were round and red-faced, and very much alike. Ponto, Angelica's father, was generally acknowledged to be the most solid and respectable, Bagginsy Baggins of his generation, with Porto a close second. Both brothers and their wives were at home when the young hobbits arrived. They all kissed Angelica and greeted Frodo with sincere warmth, but he could see that they knew of his plans and did not approve.

Ponto made his opinion of the matter plain. "I don't agree with this mystery-solving and running off on adventures, Frodo. It never did a respectable hobbit any good--makes you late for meals and gives you a reputation for oddness. I blame old Uncle Bilbo for making this sort of thing fashionable amongst you youngsters."

"You'd never hear of a Baggins being called odd before Bilbo's day!" his wife agreed.

"Even our Peony's not the proper Baggins-lass she used to be since she married Milo Burrows," said Porto. "A flighty lad, that one! Calls himself a Burrows, but he's as much of a Brandybuck at heart as you are, Frodo. We thought she'd settle him down, but it seems to have gone the opposite way. We've heard about the part she played in helping you find those Taggart jewels."

"Not to say that the Brandybucks aren't fine folk in their way, nor to mention, ten times as rich as anybody in the Shire--except the Tooks," Ponto hastened to add. "But they've got an oddness in them, there's no denying it. It's brought some mighty strange blood into the Baggins family, and we see it come out in this sort of thing. Well, I'll go with you to the Bilburys all the same, my lad."

"That's very kind of you, Ponto," Frodo said politely.

"I know the poor girl who's missing and want to see her safely home," Ponto admitted. "Though I must say that I don't see the reason for this subterfuge. Can't you just ask the Bilburys what you want to know and have done with it?"

"I've explained that to you already, Papa," Angelica said with a mild note of patience. "You know how people are when you ask questions about their families and private affairs--they make so much fuss, even when you're trying to help them. It's much easier to do things this way."

"Oh... very well."

Angelica smiled and took her father's arm. "It's terribly sweet of you to indulge us, Papa, and we're both enormously grateful--aren't we, Frodo? If Cammie is found, it'll be due to Papa's help as much as anything."

Ponto patted her hand, curled around his coat-sleeve, and looked very pleased with himself. Frodo was amazed, but appreciated how in spite of all she'd done to win her family's disapproval, Angelica had not only gained their forgiveness, but could still charm the Bagginses and wind them around her fingers. No matter what they thought of it, they would do as she wanted.

A short walk brought the three of them to the Bilburys' home in Overhill, where they were met at the door by Turlo Bilbury, a large and middle-aged, respectable-looking hobbit, exactly the sort of person Frodo would have pictured as a friend of Ponto's. Mr. Bilbury took them into the parlor, where his wife was sitting. "I say, Rue, look who's come visiting!"

"I've brought along my daughter Angelica, whom you know, of course," said Ponto. "And this young fellow is my cousin, Frodo Baggins."

Rue Bilbury looked confused as she welcomed her guests. "I'm so pleased to meet you, Frodo. And how nice to see you again, Angelica dear. We haven't since before you were married. How sweet the two of you look together..." She let out a foolish little laugh. "Silly creature I am, I thought that your husband was Mayor Whitfoot's son."

"He is," said Angelica, and smiled slightly while Frodo blushed at the mistake. "Cousin Frodo was kind enough to accompany Papa and me today." She was quick to put Mrs. Bilbury at ease after this error, and soon got to the point of their visit.

Frodo settled quietly into a chair, and watched his cousin work. He considered Angelica a vain, self-centered, bossy girl, but he recognized that she was extremely clever at managing people. As he had told Sam, he would let her do as she liked today, so long as it aided his investigation; he knew she wanted to find and help Camellia as much as he did.

"I had to come and see you once I heard the news about Cammie," Angelica told the Bilburys. "I wanted to offer my sympathies. It must be wretched for you--how worried you must be! Have you heard from her at all?"

Tears misted Mrs. Bilbury's eyes. "No, not a word. Camellia was planning to come here, you know. She wrote to tell us so. I've watched the road for her since, and Turlo's been out to look for her. I haven't given up."

"'Tisn't safe for a girl to ride so far unaccompanied," said Ponto.

"You can't mean to suggest, Ponto Baggins, that she's been waylaid by ruffians?" asked Turlo, and shook his head. "Nonsense. Camellia would have come by the main road, through the heart of the Shire. There's no safer place in the world!"

"There have been some strange days recently, and tales of the most peculiar folk seen at our borders," his wife observed.

"Yes, but that's over now that there's a King again," Mr. Bilbury replied. "Not that what goes on outside the Shire has much to do with us, but we've heard how the wild lands have been put to rights and that bad lot's been driven off. There's no danger of ruffians getting into the Shire any longer."

"What do you think could have happened to her then?" Angelica asked. "Could she have stopped to visit someone else along the way?"

"If she had, she surely would have let us know," said Mrs. Bilbury. "I can only imagine that poor Camellia's had some sort of accident."

"That seems most likely to me as well," said Turlo, "but it's odd that no-one's found her by now, even if she'd been tossed from her pony into a ditch." His wife made a soft sound of distress at the idea, and was echoed sympathetically by Angelica. "At least, someone should have seen the riderless pony wandering."

Frodo listened, and knew that all this speculation was pointless. Camellia had intended to come to Overhill--perhaps to ask Angelica for advice, or to tell her aunt and uncle her plans--but she'd never set out on that journey. But it raised an interesting question: Which way had Camellia gone when she'd left Stillwater Hall? He'd assumed she and Rolo had taken the northern road to Bindbole Wood, but perhaps they'd traveled by the Great East road instead. When he returned to Budgeford, it might be worthwhile to look for signs of them and make a few inquiries along the way.

"She came from Budgeford, didn't she?" he asked.

The Bilburys stared at him, as if they'd forgotten he was there.

"I believe your niece is married to the one of the Stillwaters, who live near there. I know the family, slightly," he continued. "May I ask how you became acquainted with them? They live so far away. Are they relatives of yours?"

"Relatives? No. Verbena Goldworthy was an old friend of mine from girlhood," said Mrs. Bilbury. "We've seen little of each other since we each married and made our homes so far apart, but we've corresponded now and again over the years."

"And how did Camellia come to meet the son, Valerian?"

"It was through my efforts," Mrs. Bilbury answered. "In my letters, I mentioned to Verbena how concerned we were for poor Camellia's future once she came into our care. It's a great responsibility to watch over an inexperienced girl with her own fortune--all sorts of scoundrels will lay traps for her. Verbena replied that her own son wasn't yet married and, well, it seemed a perfect match. After that, it was only a matter of bringing the two young people together. The Stillwaters came to visit us here, and Camellia and Valerian were wed within a month."

Turlo Bilbury had begun to watch Frodo with interest during this part of the conversation, and continued to do so for the rest of the visit. As the Bagginses were preparing to leave, he lay a hand on Frodo's shoulder. "A moment of your time, lad, before you go," he requested softly, and drew Frodo aside, from the front hall into a small cloakroom, not used at this time of year.

"Rue and I don't go out much," he said once they were alone, "but we hear the news that goes around, same as everyone else does. You're the young Baggins who found old Mrs. Taggart's jewels, aren't you?"

Caught, Frodo confessed, "Yes, I am." He was beginning to see that his reputation as a detective could be a liability.

"From what I hear, you've made quite a business for yourself of prying into other people's private affairs," the older hobbit said softly.

"Only when I've been invited to do so," Frodo defended himself.

Mr. Bilbury huffed indignantly. "And who's invited you to look into our niece's affairs?"

"Mrs. Stillwaters."

At this name, Mr. Bilbury's indignation diminished; Camellia's mother-in-law had every right to ask Frodo to investigate. "She didn't tell us," he grumbled. "You might've said so, lad, when you came in, instead of letting your relatives do your talking for you."

"Mrs. Stillwaters asked me to be as discreet as possible in my inquiries."

"Inquiries, eh? And what've you found out so far?"

"I've heard a name," Frodo delicately broached the dangerous subject. "Rolo Bindbole."

"Him!" Mr. Bilbury's face turned red.

"You know who he is?" Frodo asked innocently.

"Yes, I know him. A thorough scoundrel, just the sort we tried to protect the girl against. Whatever gossip you've heard about that boy and our Camellia, it's quite mistaken. It's impossible! Cammie would never-! She couldn't. I'd rather she be dead in a ditch than such a thing be true!"

When Frodo left the house, Angelica and Ponto were waiting for him outside. "What's wrong, Frodo?" asked Angelica. "What did he say to you?"

"We're not so clever as we thought we were," Frodo said sheepishly. "Mr. Bilbury knew what we were up to all along."

After they saw Ponto off at the lane that led to his home, Frodo and Angelica walked on toward the Old Place.

"It didn't come out exactly as planned, but I think we made a good start," said Frodo. "I was very glad of your help, Angelica. Will you be staying on in Hobbiton for awhile?"

"Another day or two. I promised Mama I'd bring the baby over tomorrow. I can manage to remain longer if you need me to, Frodo, but I mustn't stay away too long, or Lad will miss us." A hint of a smile curved at the corners of her mouth. "He might even become jealous."

"Jealous?" Frodo echoed. "Of me?"

"He knew I was coming here to see you," Angelica explained coolly. "I told him so. Lad doesn't know about Cammie's stolen letters--that remains a matter of the strictest confidence--but of course he remembers that day you called at our house while he was out at the races. Perhaps it's on his mind now."

Frodo knew she was joking, but he blushed. "Surely he realizes he has nothing to worry about. We're distant cousins, hardly even on friendly terms until recently and besides- well- I mean- He's heard the gossip about me."

"The gossip about you and Sam Gamgee?" Angelica replied. "Yes, he's heard it. Remember, he was the one who told it to me when he was so afraid I might do as Aunt Dora wanted and marry you instead of him. Even if he truly believed it then, your Sam is married now." Then she said more sincerely, "I was sorry for you when I heard about that, Frodo. It's remarkably sweet of you to have him and Rosie at Bag End. I could never be so generous under such circumstances."

"They married with my blessings," Frodo told her. He would not, however, explain the arrangement that he, Sam and Rosie had made between them.

"You are sweet," Angelica repeated. Then, as if she regretted her teasing, confessed, "I didn't tell Lad about Cammie's letters, but I did tell him that I was coming here to help you, for Cammie's sake."

"You care very much for her, don't you?"

"She's been my friend since we were small."

Frodo found himself repeating what Aunt Asphodel had observed. "She's so unlike you--such a shy, plain girl."

"Yes," replied Angelica, "and I was the roly-poly one that the boys called 'Jelly'."

Frodo understood; Merry and Pippin still teased her by calling her by that name. Angelica had not always been one of the prettiest girls in the Shire. It was to her credit that she remained loyal to the friend of her pudgy childhood years after she had blossomed, and Camellia had not.

"When Camellia last wrote you, did she say what she wanted?" he asked. "Could she have meant to tell you she was planning to go away with Rolo?"

"She didn't say anything of the sort. She's only mentioned his name to me once since she married, on the day she told me about those letters of his. She should better have burned them! Oh, I brought her letter with me--I meant to give it to you yesterday. I knew you'd want to see it."

Once they were back at the Old Place, Angelica took Camellia's last letter out of her baggage to show it to him. Frodo read it while his cousin saw to her baby, and promised Peony that they would tell her all that had happened over lunch.

As Angelica had said, the first paragraph of Camellia's letter simply stated that she would be visiting her aunt and uncle, and asked Angelica to meet her in Hobbiton. The second paragraph was more interesting:

"'I would also like to see your cousin, Mr. Baggins, again. Do you think he'd mind if we called? I still wish to have my letters returned, but fear I have made a dreadful mistake."

"What does she mean: 'I still wish to have my letters returned'?" Frodo asked Angelica when she came back to the parlor.

"Just as she says. I expect she wanted to know how you were coming along in your efforts, but was too shy to ask her yourself."

"But-" Frodo stopped and stared at her. "Angelica, I recovered those letters weeks ago. It was her maidservant who took them. I sent them on to her right away. She never-" They regarded each other with wide eyes. "She never received them."

Merry and Pippin had reached the eastern edge of Bindbole Wood the day before. They'd stopped at a tavern in a village beside a stream that led south from Oatbarton and powered a sawing mill. By buying ales and chatting up the mill-workers who stopped at the tavern at the end of the day, the pair learned that most of the hobbits who lived in and around the forest were woodcutters, and many of them had taken their last name from the Woods; there were Bindboles by the dozens.

The name Rolo meant nothing to the tavern-keeper nor his patrons, but they said that there were tiny villages and single cottages scattered throughout the Wood. With a map of the primary paths through the Wood drawn out for them, Merry and Pippin set out the next morning on their search.

"Wouldn't it be nice to escape to a place like this?" Merry gazed up as they passed under the tent of green leaves overhead; the trees crowded close on either side of the path, letting dappled patches of bright sunlight through. They had not reached the first woodland village yet. Except for the occasional trill of birdsong, all was still and quiet, and everything was green. "I can't blame Mrs. Stillwaters for coming to hide here. If you're going to live in disgrace, it's much better done far away from everyone who disapproves of you, and it might as well be someplace lovely. For us, it'd have to be Green Hill Wood. Perhaps we could have a little cottage in that culvert where your circus friends were hiding? We'd be left to ourselves there, but it's close enough to the inn at the crossroads that we could come out for a half-pint in the evenings. And you could ride over to visit your family whenever you liked."

"We couldn't really live that way, Merry," Pippin answered after a thoughtful silence. "Not for long."

"We did once, at Crickhollow. I think we could be happy, as we were there, if only we were left alone."

"That was a wonderful time," Pippin agreed wistfully. He stopped his pony and sidled it closer to Merry's to hold out a hand to him; when Merry took it, Pippin smiled. "We were happy then, weren't we? Just home after the war, having fun and minding our own business. Nobody talking about us. Nobody bothering us. It'd be nice if we could go back there again someday, or someplace like it."

"It'd be nice if we could go on riding on this path until we found the heart of the Wood, or the end of the Shire, and never came back again. Where do we come out, by the way?"

Pippin looked down the path ahead, winding between the trees, and let go of Merry's hand to consult their map. "If we go on long enough, we'll come out on the northern end of the Wood." He looked up at Merry. "We'll almost be at Long Cleeve, where the North-Tooks live. Maybe we could go by-"

"And have a look at that girl before she comes to Tuckborough?"

Pippin ducked his head. "I'm not suggesting we ought to go and introduce ourselves, or offer to accompany her and Aunt Di to the Thain's Hall. But, if we happen to find ourselves up that way, we might have a peek at her through the hedges, just to see what she looks like. I am a bit curious."

Merry laughed at this, but after they had gone on a little farther, he said, "I ought to tell you now: I won't be in Tuckborough when she's there. It's better all around."

"But I want you to be there," said Pippin. "I want her to meet you."

"I'm sorry, Pip, but I don't think I could abide it."

A hurt look crossed Pippin's face, but he said, "Don't you see? I want her know about you and me, to understand what's between us. It's the first thing I'll tell her. Girls aren't so innocent, Merry. You've seen how they are--you've heard my sisters talk!"

"Pimmy said she wouldn't dream of sharing a husband with anybody," Merry recalled.

"What about Rosie?" Pippin countered. "She knows all about Sam and Frodo, and she married him anyway. Why shouldn't this girl be like that? You said yourself that any girl you married would have to know what she had to look forward to."

"Then you are going to marry her?" Merry asked him.

"I don't know," Pippin answered shortly. "I haven't even seen her yet! I've told you before, it depends on a lot of things: Is she pretty? Is she nice? Does she like me? Will she understand how it'll be if she marries me, with you there? Anyway, even if I do agree to it, we won't be married for years and years."

"She'll be here next week."

"And I can't tell you more 'til then. Merry, please, I don't want another quarrel! Let's not talk about it anymore." Pippin nudged his pony on, and rode away at a trot.

Merry didn't want to quarrel either. They'd had some awful rows recently, and he didn't know how many more they could take. He nudged his pony to follow Pippin's, but neither said anything for awhile.

They stopped at a few woodland settlements during that day--"village" was too grand a word for what were at most four or five cottages set together in a clearing, no place even large enough to have an inn or public drinking house. The woodsfolk were not used to seeing strangers, but friendly enough and eager to hear and tell news. Merry and Pippin heard plenty of talk, but none of it useful. They met a few people who knew Rolo, or claimed relation to him; some even said that they had seen him in the Wood recently. No one had seen or heard of an unknown lady residing in the forest.

When the light began to fail, they stopped where they were and made a camp not far from the path near a burbling, stone-filled stream. They might have begged for shelter in a cottage or farm-byre, but the night was warm and mild. They built a small fire and had a meager dinner of bread and cheese from the supplies they'd purchased that morning at the village.

"It's almost like our travels on the quest, isn't it?" Pippin said as they wrapped their cloaks around themselves and settled down on opposite sides of the fire. "Only, we were always in danger then, and hardly ever had a moment to ourselves."

Merry made a drowsy sound of agreement. Pippin watched him for a minute, then got up and crawled around the fire to him.

"We have a moment to ourselves now... if you're not still angry with me. Are you, Merry?" he asked, and put a hand lightly on his shoulder.

"No, I'm not angry." It was the truth. He wasn't angry at Pippin, not really, but he was very much afraid of losing him and it made him snappish and short-tempered. He knew that Frodo was right; he couldn't make Pippin stay with him if he didn't want to. But when the time came to let Pip go, it would be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

"You haven't been living up to your name lately," Pippin observed. "If you go on being as un-merry as this, we'll have to start calling you Grouchy instead."

Merry laughed. "You're right, I haven't been very cheerful." He turned to lie on his back and look up at Pippin, who was crouched over him, smiling hopefully. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," said Pippin. "I don't want you to worry. I keep trying to say so, but it never comes out right. You have to know, no matter what happens, it won't change things between us. I won't let it. I'll always love you first and best." He leaned down to kiss the tip of Merry's nose, then his mouth.

Merry still had his doubts and fears for their future, but he wasn't going to argue about it now. When Pippin lay down beside him and snuggled close, Merry put an arm around him and stroked his hair. Pippin lifted his head and they were just beginning to kiss, when there was a crackle of movement in the underbrush. "Ssh! What's that?"

They moved apart quickly, sat up, and peered at the dark forest around them. Through the trees, they could see the flare of a torchlight moving, coming closer. A male voice called out: "Who're ye lads?"

"Who're you?" Pippin asked back.

As the torch came nearer, they could see that it was carried by a hobbit past his middle years with a wrinkled, reddened face like a weathered apple. As he reached the clearing where Merry and Pippin had settled, he raised his torch to have a better look at them. "Ye're gentlefolk by the look o' ye. Are ye lost?"

"No," answered Merry. "We're travelers, on our way through the Wood. We stopped here for the night."

"We're not trespassing, are we?" asked Pippin.

"No, lads. The Wood belongs to nobody, though we all tend the trees and cut what's fitting. We saw fire and heard voices, and I thought as I'd best come have a look. My cottage is over yonder. Come wi' me, if ye like. We'll give ye a better bed than the hard ground."

"That's very kind of you, Mister-" said Merry.

"Name's Bindbole."

The name struck neither young hobbit as remarkable; they'd met other Bindboles today. "It's very kind, Mr. Bindbole, but we couldn't put you out. We're used to sleeping rough."

"'Tis no trouble," their prospective host assured him. "There's plenty o' room. We can give ye lads a late supper, and a drop o' my wife's good ale."

There were no further protests; after their light dinner, both Pippin and Merry accepted this invitation gratefully. Once they had put out the fire and picked up their packs, they followed the old woodsman along a footpath that ran beside the stream until they came to a single cottage in a clearing. Even by the torchlight and the light that came through the windows, they could see it was a patchwork home: the original round, central hut had been added to over the years, so that the angled roofs of multiple penthouses jutted out oddly in all directions.

An aging, apple-faced woman, to match her husband, stood waiting at the open door with a worried expression. Her face cleared, but she looked very curious when she saw that her husband was not alone.

"I've brought back company, Missus," Mr. Bindbole explained to her. "These young gents here are travelers, stopped in our woods for the night. I said as we'd give 'em a bite of supper and a place to sleep."

Mrs. Bindbole was surprised to have guests at so late an hour, but welcomed them into her kitchen, where a mushroom stew was just being served. At the table sat two younger male hobbits, presumably the Bindboles' sons, and a younger woman--a daughter, or the wife of one of the sons, Merry guessed; and wife it turned out to be, for when two small, sleepy-eyed children peeked out from behind a curtained recess to see what was going on, their mother sent them firmly back to bed.

"We don't see many travelers in these parts," said Mrs. Bindbole as she placed a plate full of stew and freshly baked and buttered rolls in front of each guest. "Who might ye lads be? Have ye come from afar?"

Merry and Pippin introduced themselves.

"Took?" Mr. Bindbole's expression brightened as Pippin spoke his last name. "Why, we know the North-Tooks well! I've been up Cleeveland-way on business now and again. One o' that family, are ye?"

"The southern branch, actually," said Pippin, but it was close enough; the name of Took was as good as a letter of recommendation. The Bindboles also assumed that Pippin and his companion were on their way to visit his northern cousins, and both boys let them think so.

"Will ye us tell us the news?" Mrs. Bindbole requested over dinner. "I han't been out o' the Wood in ages. Our Rolo here's been out and about the Shire, but he don't like to talk about it now he's home." She indicated her younger son.

"Rolo?" Pippin echoed, and stared at him. "You're Rolo Bindbole?" he asked before Merry could kick him under the table.

The boy looked startled and puzzled. "Yes, that's right. D'you know me, Mr. Took?"

"No-" began Pippin. "We've never met."

"But my name means sommat to you."

"There was a lad by that name in Budgeford awhile ago," Merry said quickly. "Since you've been out around the Shire, I'm sure Pip thought you might be the same one."

Rolo glanced at him with sharp curiosity, but only answered, "No, 'twasn't me. I han't been so far off as Budgeford." That was the end of it as far the rest of the Bindbole family was concerned, but Rolo kept his eye warily on Merry and Pippin throughout dinner.

After dinner, Mrs. Bindbole showed them to one of the penthouses built off the central cottage, a room with a slanted roof so low that they couldn't stand up in it except near the curtained doorway. Pallets were laid out on the floor for them, and blankets brought in. The two settled down and lay quietly waiting side by side, but did not sleep.

After the rest of the household had gone to bed and the cottage was dark and silent, Rolo crept into their room. "You lads," he whispered, "you didn't tell all the truth, did you? You're not simple travelers who come our way by accident." Rolo sat down on the floor between the two pallets. "You know my name. What is it you're after?"

Pippin, who never liked subterfuge, was happy to be direct. "Our cousin Frodo sent us to find you."

"Frodo..." Rolo repeated the name without understanding, and then he remembered. "Frodo Baggins, the detective? He's looking for me--why? What's he want with me?"

"It has to do with Camellia Stillwaters," said Merry.

"He thinks I still got sommat to do with Cammie? But I gave him Cammie's letters, soon as I got them, and there's an end to it."

"No, it's not ended," Merry told him. "You mayn't have heard, if you've been here in the Wood, but Camellia's gone."

"Gone?" Rolo echoed. "Where?"

"Everyone who knows about it thinks she's run off with you. Frodo sent us to find out if you'd brought her here--but she's not here, is she?"

Rolo shook his head. "Cammie isn't with me. Run off with me? No. I han't seen her since she married."

Frodo, meanwhile, was resting at Sam's insistence and working on his book, but his investigations in Hobbiton continued apace. There were several points he had to follow up on.

He had asked Angelica and Peony to speak casually to Camellia's other friends. Social calls, Frodo had learned, were a good opportunity to hear useful bits of information, once they had been sorted out from the ordinary local gossip. Angelica and Peony were meant to find out if anyone else had received letters from Camellia before she'd gone away and, if they had, what she'd said to them. It was a perfect assignment for the two ladies to perform without his accompanying them; after his visit to the Bilburys, Frodo was afraid that his reputation as a detective would be a hindrance.

The ladies came to Bag End at tea-time that afternoon to report that there'd been no letters from Camellia--Angelica was apparently her only confidante--but that speculation on her disappearance was wild.

"Everyone who remembers Cammie's romance with that boy speaks of it openly," said Angelica. "All our old friends say they're surprised that she would do such a thing, but they all assume she has. So there's no longer any secret there."

"It was the first I'd heard of it," Peony mumbled reproachfully into her teacup; she obviously felt that Angelica and Frodo had kept this important and juicy piece of information from her.

"Darling Auntie, Frodo was asked particularly to be discreet," Angelica apologized to her with a gentle pat on the knee. "It was a secret. Only, there doesn't seem to be much point in it now, if everyone's talking."

"No," Frodo agreed glumly, "there doesn't." Anxious as Mrs. Stillwaters was to suppress it, the gossip about Camellia's defection would be all over the Shire in another week. There was no way to avoid a scandal now.

He wondered again what he would say to Camellia when they located her. Could her reputation be retrieved at all at this point?

Frodo had also sent Sam to inquire at the post office about the parcel he'd sent to Camellia in July. The Postmaster remembered it, since it was so much larger than the usual notes and letters that went through his office. He was sure it had been sent off to Budgeford in the eastbound courier's bag the same day that Frodo had brought in it, but he would ask the courier the next time he came by. Frodo planned to visit the post office in Budgeford when he returned there to find out if the parcel had been received, and if it had gone on to Stillwater Hall.

He was still puzzling over the question that evening--if Camellia had never received her letters, who had them?--when Merry and Pippin arrived at Bag End. They'd ridden down from Bindbole Wood as swiftly as they could.

"Did you find them?" Frodo asked the pair as soon as they came in.

"We found Rolo," said Pippin. "But, Frodo, wait 'til you hear what we have to tell you!"

---

"Rolo says he went home the day after he gave you Camellia Stillwaters's letters," Merry concluded, after he and Pippin had told Frodo what they'd discovered in Bindbole Wood. "He's been there since the middle of July, and hasn't seen her. He didn't even know she was missing, or so he claims."

"Could Camellia have been there, in hiding?" asked Frodo.

Merry shook his head. "Not in that cottage. It's far too small. The Bindbole family sleep in little rooms built off the sides. There's no place to hide, and we saw no sign of another person in the cottage beyond the Bindboles. It's crowded enough with all of them in there. Besides, I doubt Mr. and Mrs. Bindbole would've welcomed us in if they'd had something to hide. They seem like honest folk and if Rolo's lying, I don't believe they know what he's up to."

Frodo's head was swimming. On top of learning that Camellia hadn't received the package of letters, this news was astonishing and baffling... and disturbing. If Rolo wasn't lying and hadn't run away with Camellia, then everything he had assumed about the lady's disappearance was wrong.

Was Rolo lying? Was he keeping Camellia somewhere else in the Wood? If not, where was she? For the first time, Frodo considered the idea that, wherever Camellia was, she had not gone there willingly.

They discussed the case over dinner. Frodo made Merry and Pippin laugh at how he'd been caught out when he and Angelica had called upon the Bilburys, but didn't laugh with them. While the others speculated about where Camellia might be--concealed within in the Wood or flown elsewhere?--Frodo did not voice the darker suspicions that were growing in his mind.

It was only after Merry and Pippin had gone to their room, and Rosie to hers, that he spoke his worst fears. Before joining Rose, Sam stopped at Frodo's bedroom door to see if he wanted anything; he'd noticed how Frodo had been quiet over dinner and eaten little.

"Aren't you feeling well, Frodo? I can get you a nice cup of warm milk," he offered, "or a hot water bottle, if it'll help you to sleep."

"No, Sam, thank you," Frodo answered. He lay curled in bed, but had not yet blown out the candle on the nightstand. "But there is something you can do for me. I've been wondering if you'd mind going back to Frogmorton tomorrow to speak to Betula Root."

"Again?" Sam's face fell in dismay at this unexpected and unwelcome request.

Frodo gave him an apologetic smile. "I know you're sick of the sight of that horrid girl, and I can't blame you, dear Sam, but it is necessary. We haven't heard all of her story yet, and we need to. I'm sure she knows more than she's telling. Do you think it's possible that she could wish harm to Camellia Stillwaters?"

"Harm?" Sam echoed. "Well, I don't know as she'd have a particular reason to want to hurt her mistress. The little wretch was out for what she could get, I'd say, but she might've stolen those letters out of spite as much as anything else."

"And when Rolo returned them to us, her spite was thwarted?"

"I suppose so," Sam answered, but he didn't see where Frodo was headed with this line of thought.

"Could they have intercepted Camellia's letters to take them back?"

"How?"

"They might have stolen them from the courier's bag when he stopped in Frogmorton, if they'd known he was carrying the packet I'd sent her," replied Frodo. "But how would they know that? No. You're right, Sam. I don't see how they could have got them that way.

"If Camellia were coming to visit her aunt and uncle, she would take the Road by way of Frogmorton." Frodo drew up his knees to hug to his chest and considered this. "We know that she meant to come. She wrote to them, and Angelica, to expect her. I don't believe she meant to depart so abruptly on that particular night--she didn't take anything with her--but leave she did, for whatever reason. She would certainly pass through Frogmorton. She might have stopped at the inn, and met Betula there. Yes, that's possible. And what about that ne'er-do-well stable-lad? If he'd wished greater harm to the lady when he sold her letters to Rolo, he would've felt thwarted too."

Sam regarded him with perplexity. "What're you saying, Frodo? That the two of 'em made away with her? What's all this talk of doing her harm?"

"If it wasn't those two, perhaps she did arrive at the Bilburys," Frodo went on musing, wandering deeper into his own thoughts; his mind had been turning upon disturbing possibilities for some hours, and now it all came tumbling out. "She might've told them how unhappy she was in her marriage, and that she meant to go away with the boy they disapproved so much of. They would certainly not agree to that. Her uncle said he'd rather see her dead. Is she lying in a ditch somewhere along the road, just as he said? If she is, why hasn't she been found yet?

"And what about Rolo? Whether or not he's telling the truth about Camellia's whereabouts, there's more to that lad than he lets on. Are he and Betula connected? Was the 'dreadful mistake' Camellia wrote Angelica about loving him? He could have kept watch to see when I went to the post office and followed the courier--it would be a moment's work to remove the packet from the mail-bag without the courier's noticing. What if he returned to Budgeford with them? In spite of what he claims, we know he didn't go home to the Wood right away. He was seen in Budgeford, in the orchard with Camellia. Perhaps he took the letters to confront Camellia with them, as proof that she still loved him. He asked her to fly with him. But what if she didn't go? What if she refused him? Your old gardener may be right, Sam, when he says that Rolo tossed her into the river. But if that's so, I don't understand why he would give the letters to me when he might have kept them.

"If it wasn't Rolo, it could be that husband of hers. I can't believe he loves her. He married her for her money, I'm sure of it. What if he came home earlier on that night than his mother says he did and saw her with Rolo in the orchard? It would have been an ordinary tryst, not a plan for flight. Val could have caught his wife as she returned to the Hall, quarreled with her. He could have thrown her in the river. What was he doing on the Bridge, looking into the water? She surely must be farther down the Brandywine than that. They didn't find my cousin Mentha until she came to the rush marshes where the Withywindle meets the river above Haysend."

"Frodo!"

Frodo stopped and looked up to find Sam staring at him, alarmed at this outpouring of morbid theories.

"You're talking like she's dead. Do you really think she is?"

"I hope very much that she isn't, Sam," Frodo answered. "I hope I'm wrong, and that she's alive and well, wherever she is. But I am terribly afraid for her. We must return to Budgeford."

"And stop at the inn at Frogmorton to talk to that Betula," Sam yielded to Frodo's wishes with a sigh of resignation; it was inevitable. "I'll go tell Rose we'll be leaving in the morning." As he turned to leave, he added, "And I'll tell her I'm sleeping here tonight, just in case."

In case of what? Frodo was momentarily puzzled, then as Sam went out, he understood; after listening to him talk, Sam was afraid he was about to have another bad turn, and didn't want to leave him alone.

He had meant to let Rose have Sam to herself until they returned to Budgeford, but he was glad Sam would be with him tonight. The company was most welcome. The last thing Frodo wanted was to lie alone in the dark with these terrible thoughts in his head. How much more terrible, if one of them proved to be true!

Frodo sent a note to the Old Place the next morning to tell Peony and Angelica that he was grateful for their assistance, but his investigations in Hobbiton were finished for the present. He didn't tell them what he suspected; why upset Angelica about her friend's fate until he was quite sure what that fate was?

He sent a second, private note to Milo, asking if he could find out if Mr. Bilbury had been out of town even for a day around the time that Camellia had disappeared. Any information Milo discovered was to be sent to Frodo at the Three Badgers Inn in Budgeford.

He, Sam, Merry, and Pippin left Bag End at mid-morning. They reached the Polwygle Inn in Frogmorton before noon, and stopped briefly.

"No more than a half-pint each," Frodo warned his cousins as they went into the common room, "otherwise we'll be here all day. I mean to be in Budgeford before nightfall." He did not intend for them to remain here longer than it would take to speak to Betula and find out what he wanted to know.

But when they went to the bar, another maidservant attended them. Betula was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's the girl who usually serves here?" asked Frodo. "Betula. Is she not working today?"

"Oh, her." The barmaid shrugged as she set down the first pair of ale-filled mugs, then turned back to fill another two from the keg. "Bet's not here anymore. She's gone."

While Frodo asked the maid and the innkeeper if any who fit the descriptions of Camellia or her uncle had been seen at the inn about two weeks ago--and was informed that one or two hobbits who looked like Mr. Bilbury had been there around the beginning of August--Sam went out to the stable to see if Betula's grandfather had also gone. He was relieved to find Palgo Root watering the ponies.

"That's right--the girl's run off," Mr. Root confirmed bluntly in answer to Sam's questions. "No, not with Jorly. He's still here." He nodded to indicate the sullen stable-lad, who was lurking at the back of the stables.

When Sam looked his way, Jorly scowled back at him and said, "It's all your doing, Mr. Detective. It was you who came between us and spoiled it all! You put her to flight with your prying and asking questions of her. Bet couldn't take no more of it, and off she went!"

"Where to?" Sam asked, but neither Mr. Root nor Jorly had any idea.

---

"Did you believe them?" Frodo asked once the foursome had resumed their journey.

"I don't think they know where she is," Sam answered. "They both sounded angry, just as they'd be if she left and didn't tell 'em where she was going. She's run off, I'd say."

"Yes, but that's what everyone thinks of Camellia Stillwaters too."

Sam looked surprised, and Merry and Pippin more so, for this was the first inkling they had that Frodo thought something was very wrong with Camellia's disappearance.

"You don't think any harm's come to her?" asked Sam.

"I don't know," Frodo admitted, "but Betula did have secrets that someone wouldn't want her to tell. And now she's missing too."

They arrived in Budgeford that afternoon. While Sam reclaimed the same rooms at the Inn, which they had kept in reserve for their return, Frodo went out to make inquiries at the little post office next door.

The postmistress couldn't be certain whether or not she had seen the package, not after so many days, but she thought that the courier who routinely took the mail north on the road to Scary and Quarry might remember stopping at the Hall. Since he usually returned from his rounds in time to have tea with her, Frodo decided to wait.

The courier arrived within the hour and was not adverse to the tip Frodo offered to help jog his memory. Yes, he did recall leaving a parcel at Stillwater Hall several weeks ago, and thought it might have come from Hobbiton.

"But I can tell you for sure, Mr. Baggins, that it wasn't mislaid," he defended himself from any hint of neglect in his duties. "It got where it was meant to go. I put that package right into the hands of Missus Stillwaters herself."

"Which Mrs. Stillwaters?" Frodo asked eagerly. "The elder or the younger?"

"Old Missus, it was."

---

Frodo next went to Aunt Asphodel's. The maid who admitted him said that "her ladyship's not receiving company," but he found that she was not alone; Estella and Ilberic Brandybuck were with her today, seated together on the sofa and looking rather anxious.

"I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to interrupt." Frodo took a step backwards at the parlor door to excuse himself from what appeared to be a private conversation, but Estella waved for him to stay.

"It's all right, Frodo--you know all about it anyway. Ilbie and I thought Great-Aunt Del might help us with Uncle Saradoc." Estella reached out to take Ilbie's hand, and turned eagerly to Asphodel. "Can you, Auntie? Aunt Beryl's come around. She sees now that Merry doesn't care a straw for me and never will."

"And I told Mother before I came here that I meant to propose to Estella," said Ilbie. "She was thrilled. She'd guessed my plans already, since I've been so much in Budgeford lately, and gave me her permission without hesitation. That only leaves Uncle Saradoc to give his consent. He's head of the family, and my father made him my guardian and trustee of the money he left to me, Celie and Dodi. If I marry without his permission before I'm of age, he can hold back my inheritance. I couldn't marry Estella as a pauper--I won't have it said I'm living off her money."

"I have little influence over my nephew," Asphodel told the young couple, "but of course I'll do my best to point out the advantages of your match to him."

"Thank you, Auntie," said Estella. "That's all we ask."

"We want as many people on our side as we can get!" added Ilbie.

After the two had gone, Asphodel turned to Frodo with a soft smile. "They're so sweet, and so terribly young, but it does my heart good to see children so much in love. It makes an old lady feel quite young again herself! So you knew all about it?"

"Estella told me that Ilbie was calling on her when I was last here," Frodo said as he sat on the sofa his cousins had recently vacated. "I hadn't realized that they were actually betrothed."

"I understand that they became so yesterday, when Ilberic arrived. It is a good match for them both. I can't think of a girl more deserving to become a Brandybuck, and Ilberic will make a decent husband for her, if only Saradoc can be made to see it. It's no good to push Merry at girls like Estella. Even if he agrees to marry one day, he'll never be the sort of husband to make a girl happy. I don't mean to speak slightingly of Merry, Frodo--I know he's your friend, and I'm very fond of him myself--but all the Shire knows it's true. Such things do happen, even in the best families. It's sad that it should happen to the heir to the Hall, but we must face it. You're old enough to know, my boy, that a wife will put up with a great deal from a husband if there's love between them." This was as close as Asphodel would come to criticizing the late Rufus Burrows. "Without that... Well, in spite of the enormous prestige that comes with being Mistress of the Hall, I wouldn't want a loveless marriage for dear little Estella."

"Neither does Merry," said Frodo.

"I'm pleased to hear it. Perhaps he ought to speak to his father as well." Asphodel's smile returned. "I shall do my best for those children to see them wed. Now, what can I do for you, Frodo dear?"

"I came to ask a favor of you, Auntie," Frodo explained. "Do you call often on Mrs. Stillwaters? If you do, I'd like to accompany you on your next visit. I believe she has social occasions, as you do?"

"Yes, she has. As a matter of fact, I've been invited to tea tomorrow afternoon. It's Verbena's first tea party since before poor Camellia's disappearance. Verbena's making every attempt to keep up a brave face, although of course everyone knows about it now." The old lady's eyes twinkled as she regarded her nephew. "I'll be pleased and quite proud to be escorted by a handsome young lad like yourself, Frodo, and I'm certain that Verbena would have no objection to your presence... but can't you simply go to Stillwater Hall if you wish to speak to her?"

Frodo shook his head. "Not for this. There's something I need to find without her knowing about it."

Frodo returned to the Three Badgers Inn late for dinner. His friends were all still in the Inn's common-room: Merry was in the private settle at the far end of the room with Ilbie; the two were talking together, and Frodo thought that the younger Brandybuck must have had the same idea as Aunt Asphodel about asking Merry to talk to his father. Pippin and Sam were at another table near the door, each with a mug of ale, and with a third hobbit who sat with his back to Frodo.

When Sam saw him, he was immediately on his feet. "Where've you been, Frodo?" he demanded. "We've been looking all over for you."

"I went to the post office, and to Aunt Del's," Frodo answered. "I'm sorry to be so late. Didn't Ilbie tell you he saw me there?"

"We didn't think to ask him," said Pippin. "He's got troubles of his own. But never mind that--look who we found!" He indicated the third hobbit at the table, who now turned to face Frodo. It was Rolo Bindbole.

"We chased him through the stableyard and caught him in the loft," Sam reported with satisfaction. "He almost got past us too. For all the talk of this Rolo, I never set eyes on him before. It was Mr. Pippin who recognized him."

"I wasn't trying to run away," said Rolo. "I came here 'specially to find you, Mr. Baggins. I was at your house in Hobbiton this morning asking after you, but your housekeeper said you'd gone on to here."

"Now why'd you come all this way after Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked.

"I told you--I wanted to talk to him about Cammie!" Rolo turned to Frodo to explain. "Once I heard tell from Mr. Took here and the other lad that she was missing, I had to come see you. You can find her, Mr. Baggins. You're the detective."

"You don't know where she is?" Frodo asked. "If you've hidden her away somewhere, I pray you tell us so now."

"I haven't!" Rolo insisted. "I swear I don't know where she is. I only know she's gone, and she hasn't come to me!"

Frodo sat down in the chair Sam had left, facing Rolo, and put his elbows on the table to lean closer and speak in a lowered voice. "You must understand that if we doubt what you say, Mr. Bindbole, it's because we have good reason. You've lied to us several times already." Rolo's mouth popped open to deny this, and Frodo went on before he could protest, "You told my cousins that you hadn't seen Mrs. Stillwaters since she married, but that isn't true. You have seen her, and spoken with her. You told them you'd never been to Budgeford, but I know for a fact that you've been here before. You've been to Stillwater Hall. You worked there earlier this summer as an assistant to the old gardener."

Rolo gaped at him. "However d'you know that?"

"Well, I am the detective," said Frodo. Sam snorted with amusement, and Pippin laughed out loud. After they had quieted, Frodo pursued the question. "How long were you at the Hall, Mr. Bindbole? The truth now."

Rolo fluttered nervously and looked about the room, but Sam stood between him and the door with folded arms and a fierce scowl; he was effectively trapped. "I went there in April," he answered at last, "as soon as I wasn't needed at home. 'Tisn't so far a journey if you come by the north road. I only meant to hang about the Stillwater place, you might say, but I was taken on to give a hand to old Mr. Rakeweed."

Sam looked skeptical. "What do you know about gardening?"

"Nothing much," Rolo admitted, "but I was only asked to dig up a few flower beds and plant some bulbs."

"Who hired you?" asked Frodo. "Was it Mr. Rakeweed?"

The corner of Rolo's mouth turned down. "Mr. Valerian Stillwaters, it was. Cammie's husband. He didn't know who I was--I never give him my right name. I called myself Rhabdo Wood. Rhabdo's my brother's name, and Wood- Well, you can see where I took that from."

Frodo nodded. "Why did you go there? To see Mrs. Stillwaters, presumably. Did you intend to resume your friendship with her?"

"No. I wanted to have a look around, and see if I could catch a glimpse of Cammie. I'll tell you--I didn't like the look of that husband of hers. Maybe it's my jealousy, pure and simple, but it seemed to me that that fellow Cammie married was no good. He plays about, you know. I seen it myself. If Cammie wasn't happy with him, I wanted to help her. I didn't speak to her, Mr. Baggins. I was careful to keep out of her sight, kept my head low, hid behind trees and bushes and such-like. She never knew I was about." Rolo looked even more distressed as he thought of Camellia. "I ought've kept a better eye on her. I could've helped her."

"When did you leave Stillwater Hall?" asked Frodo. "And why? Was it because of Betula?"

"Betula?" Rolo was confused. "Cammie's maid?"

"I'd like to know the truth of how you and she are involved with each other," Frodo answered. "Are you in this together? Did you ask her to steal the letters you and Camellia had written?"

"No! Why would I do that? I never had nothing to do with taking them. I got 'em back for Cammie, when that maid carried them off--you know I did. I brought them to you, Mr. Baggins, to give her."

"Yes, you did. And I find that very odd. If you had no part in the theft, Mr. Bindbole, then how did you know Betula took those letters? How did you know to find her in Frogmorton and buy them from the stable-boy?"

"I followed her," Rolo admitted. "I didn't see much of her, but I knew she was Cammie's maid. I saw when she left that she was carrying off things that didn't belong to her."

"You saw her take them?" asked Frodo.

Rolo opened his mouth, then faltered as his eyes darted from Frodo to Sam then Pippin. He shut his mouth again. After a moment's consideration, he said, "I saw she had 'em, and so I went after her. She was hard to trace--she went first to her aunt in Whitfurrows, then to her grand-dad, then they both went to work at that inn in Frogmorton where I found her, just as your friend here did. I struck up a chat with the stable-lad when I saw how he and Betula were friendly. I found out he had Cammie's letters and he'd take money for 'em, so I gave him all I had and I brought 'em to you to see they got back to her. And that's all I have to say about it."

"Do you know where she is now?"

"Cammie? No, I told you-"

"Not Camellia," said Frodo. "Betula. It seems she's gone now too."

Rolo stared him. The color drained out of his ruddy face. "What's happening here, Mr. Baggins," he asked in a hoarse whisper. "Where did they go?"

"I was hoping that you would tell us that," Frodo replied. "You see, I don't believe you. I know that you're still telling lies. You went back to the Hall. You were there two weeks ago, and you spoke to Camellia Stillwaters."

"I haven't been near the place since I left it," Rolo protested; he looked to Pippin. "I told Mr. Took so. I've been home since then, since I gave you her letters. My family will say as much for me."

"Yes, they would," said Frodo, "but they'd do the same whether you were there or not. You were seen, Rolo--with Camellia, in the Hall orchard, just before she disappeared."

"'Twasn't me!" Rolo cried. The other patrons in the room turned to look at him, and Merry and Ilbie came over to see what was going on. "I wasn't there."

"You asked Betula Root to take those letters, then returned them through me to regain Camellia's favor," Frodo pressed on. "The whole thing was a trick to get her to see you, to bring her back to you, wasn't it?"

"No!"

"Did she come with you, Rolo? Have you got her shut up someplace in a cottage or shed where no one would think to look for her? If you have, you'd best say so now. Or did she refuse to fly with you? What happened when she did?"

Rolo didn't answer this, but began to weep. He sank down with his head on the table, and they could get nothing more out of him.

---

Frodo obtained a room for the hysterical Rolo--a small room at the very back of the inn--and they put him in it and locked the door; Frodo gave Merry the key and told him, "See that he stays in until morning."

"I'm glad I'm not involved in this investigation, Frodo," said Ilbie. "I don't think I could stand it if you suspected me and went asking questions like that." But he also agreed to listen in case Rolo tried to leave his room.

"You were awful hard on him," said Sam after they'd left Frodo's cousins at their rooms and went down the corridor toward their own. The others had been shocked by Frodo's questioning of Rolo--they had never seen him like that before--but Sam had. "The last time you spoke that way was when you were asking old Mr. Archambault Took about the people that was hired to beat Mr. Clover."

"I felt very much the same today. If Rolo's done anything to harm that lady, then he deserved to be asked such questions," said Frodo. "It's a cruel trick, Sam, to take revenge against someone who once loved and trusted you."

"Then you think he's done- What? Put her in the river?"

"Perhaps," said Frodo, although another possibility had only just occurred to him. "He obviously lied about seeing Camellia that day. We know better. As for the rest of it-?" He shook his head and, as they reached the door to their room, stood with one hand on the brass knob at the center while he thought things over. "I believe he's telling the truth about why he first went to Stillwater Hall: he wanted to see her, to see whether or not she was happy. Beyond that, I can't say. Maybe he saw that she wasn't happy with her husband, and went looking for those old letters as proof that she still had feelings for him. He would have brought Betula into it, since a lady's maid can go into her mistress's room and handle her things more freely than a gardener. Gardeners don't have that sort of privilege... under usual circumstances." He glanced up at Sam. "The only thing I'm certain of is that he doesn't have them now, nor does Betula."

"Who does, then?" asked Sam.

"According to the courier who takes the mail up to Stillwater Hall, Mrs. Stillwaters received them--Verbena, not Camellia. I intend to find out if she still has them when I go to tea there with Aunt Del tomorrow." They went into their room. Once the door was shut, Frodo turned to put both hands on Sam's chest and once Sam's arms went around his waist to hold on to him tightly, leaned closer to rest in the embrace. It had been a long day and, faced with another difficult day tomorrow, Frodo was grateful for this simple, familiar comfort. After they'd kissed, he said, "I'll give you a choice, Sam: you can come with me and Auntie to the Hall, or you can stay here and keep Rolo company."

"I'd rather stay here, if you don't mind," Sam answered. "Somebody's got to watch over that lad and see he doesn't get up to any mischief."

"I don't think he'll try to escape. He daren't move, not with five of us here around him--Ilbie's room is right across the hall, and Merry and Pip are next door."

Merry and Pippin were in to room next to them now, and as Frodo and Sam undressed and got into bed, they could hear the other pair--not shouting, as they'd been before, but making up.

But when they went to breakfast the next morning, they learned that Rolo had gone. The other three hobbits were already in the little breakfast room, talking excitedly.

"We didn't know he'd gone until I unlocked his door to let him out and see if he wanted breakfast," Merry explained to Frodo. "He climbed out the bedroom window, by the look of it. We never heard a thing."

"I'm sorry, Frodo," Ilbie apologized. "We should've kept a closer eye on him."

"It's not your fault, Ilb," Frodo consoled him. "You weren't set to keep guard over him. No one was. I honestly didn't believe he'd run off this way."

"We knew he was up to no good!" lamented Sam.

"Yes, but we couldn't have locked him in the cupboard, or tied him to the bedpost to keep him from leaving," said Frodo. "The innkeeper wouldn't stand for it. We've no authority to hold him prisoner, and not enough proof of his guilt to take him to the shirriffs."

"Well, this running off looks like he's guilty through and through!" said Sam.

"Perhaps," Frodo said thoughtfully, and the other hobbits looked confused; they all assumed that Frodo was sure he'd found the person responsible for Camellia Stillwaters's disappearance, whether she was alive or dead. This sounded like doubt.

"Don't you think he's done it after all?" Sam asked him.

"His actions do look suspicious," Frodo agreed, "and he's lied to us more than once, but he's not the only one I suspect. There are others..."

"Do you want us to find him, Frodo?" asked Pippin.

"Yes, please. He's most likely headed for home, by the west road or the north."

"We can ride out a bit both ways and see if there's any sign of him," said Merry. "It will give us an idea of which way to go."

"We'll catch up with him one way or the other in the end," added Pippin. "Where else does he have to go, except back to the Wood?"

Once they'd finished their breakfasts, they prepared to go out in search of Rolo. Frodo had his own breakfast with Sam, and emerged from the breakfast room just as his cousins were heading out to the stable. To his surprise, Mr. Bilbury was also in the front hall, talking to the innkeeper.

Mr. Bilbury was equally surprised to see him. "Why it's Mr. Frodo Baggins!" he cried as he turned from the broad desk in the entryway, which the innkeeper stood behind, and came toward Frodo. "The innkeeper here says he has no rooms available, and now I see why. The place is filled to the rafters with young lads. Are they all relatives of yours?"

"All but one," said Frodo, and gestured to indicate Sam. "This is my friend, Mr. Gamgee. What brings you here, sir?" He'd been hoping to question the Bilburys further; Mr. Bilbury would be on his guard, since he knew that Frodo was investigating his niece's disappearance, but Frodo had not forgotten that a hobbit of Mr. Bilbury's description had been seen at the Polwygle Inn during the first week of August.

"My wife Rue wanted to see if I could find some sign of our Cammie--any trace of a foot-traveler or pony beside the road," Mr. Bilbury explained. "I've also been asking at the inns along the way."

"I've asked at the inns too, particularly the Polwygle. Did you find anything?"

Mr. Bilbury did not react to the pointed jab in this query, but shook his head and said, "Nothing. I'm calling on Mrs. Stillwaters later this morning, to see what she can tell us of Cammie's last days before she left the Hall: whether she took a pony, or might've walked off, if her bags were packed--that sort of thing."

Frodo had to smile. "Are you conducting your own investigation, sir?"

"Well, just for Mrs. Bilbury and myself. Rue's been troubled by thoughts of poor Cammie lying dead or injured by the road somewhere, and I thought I could at least put her mind to rest as to that. I can't do more--I don't know this part of the Shire, and don't have a troop of lads to help look into things for me."

"You don't know this part of the Shire," Frodo repeated. "Have you never been to Budgeford before?"

"Just the once, last winter, for Cammie's wedding," Mr. Bilbury answered. "She was married from Stillwater Hall, you know. I haven't been back since."

It was then that Frodo noticed the innkeeper, who'd been pretending to study his registry book while listening to their conversation, had looked up; he met Frodo's eyes and opened his mouth in an oddly urgent expression, as if he had something he desperately wanted to say. The innkeeper was behind Mr. Bilbury, who didn't see this urgent look.

"Will you excuse me for a minute, please," Frodo said to Mr. Bilbury. "I think I can arrange a room for you--one of my party has left." He went over to the innkeeper's desk and, standing at the opposite side, bent his head over as if he too were studying the registry book.

"What is it, Mr. Noakes?" he asked softly.

"I heard what the gentleman was telling you, Mr. Baggins, as he hasn't been here afore," the innkeeper murmured. "But that isn't so. He's been here, in this very inn, not more'n two weeks ago. I didn't know his name then."

"He didn't sign his name?" Frodo glanced down at the most recent entries on the page of the book open between them.

"No, sir. He didn't stop the night, only sat in our common-room for three or four hours of an afternoon, then went on his way."

"Do you remember what day that was? Was it August 5th?" He tried to keep calm as he asked the question; since they were meant to be discussing accommodations, a raised voice or change in tone would sound very odd and rouse Mr. Bilbury's suspicions.

"It was around then, at the beginning of hay-making. I couldn't swear to the exact day. I wouldn't've remembered it, Mr. Baggins, only it come back into my head of a sudden-like, when I heard you ask. Now, maybe the gentleman don't call that 'being to Budgeford,' but as you're investigating certain matters-" Mr. Noakes spoke discreetly, but with some relish; even though Frodo and his companions had never told him why they were here, he knew who they were and was enjoying the distinction it gave his business. "I know how you take an interest in the comings and goings of folk. I thought as you ought to know."

"Yes, I see. Thank you for telling me." Frodo stood up a little straighter, away from the desk. "You can give Mr. Bilbury the room I took for the young hobbit last night," he added. "He won't be needing it any longer."

---

When he left the inn, Frodo went to visit Fatty. He spoke with his cousin in the study; there was no offer of wine so early in the day, but Fatty did give him a pipe to smoke while they talked.

"I was hoping you'd write me about the news in Budgeford," Frodo said once he had settled down in one of the comfortable chairs. "You haven't had much to say, Fatty-lad."

"My dear Frodo, there hasn't been much worth writing about Val's comings and goings," Fatty rejoined. "He doesn't seem inclined to stay at home these days, but he never did. He has his friends--not my own circle, you understand--and he goes about with them. I wouldn't attempt to join them after that last little fracas at the Bridge, but I've done my best to learn where he spends his time. I've made up a list. I did mean to mail it at the end of the week, only you've come back sooner than I expected " Fatty rose to look for his notebook; when he found it, he gave it to Frodo. "I've put a lot of effort into this detecting business on your account, Frodo, though I must say the work isn't at all what I thought it'd be. I've had quite enough of it--that is, if you don't need my services any longer."

"I'm sure you've done a respectable job, Fatty. Thank you." Frodo pocketed the notebook. "Will you be going to Stillwater Hall this afternoon? I must look for something hidden in the private rooms, and I may need assistance to gain access to them."

Fatty looked intrigued, but shook his head. "But Aunt Beryl and 'Stella are going--and if 'Stel's going, I expect Ilbie will go too. I'm sure one or the other will be happy to do what you ask."

When hobbits were not drinking ale--so the old saying went--they were drinking tea. A tea party was more of an opportunity for ladies to gather and gossip than gentlemen, but any occasion for hobbits to enjoy themselves in the company of their friends, and where food and drink were served, was universally popular.

That afternoon, Frodo put on the best clothes he had brought with him, and walked to his Aunt Asphodel's smial on the other side of the river. Sam saw him off, but even though Rolo had gone and he had no reason to remain at the inn, declined to accompany him. Beryl, Estella, and Ilbie were already at Asphodel's; with the ladies in a carriage and the two lads riding their ponies behind, they went to Stillwater Hall.

Mrs. Stillwater was surprised to see Frodo among Asphodel's party, but welcomed him in and asked him if he could stay for a private conversation after tea--"to discuss how your investigation has progressed since we last met." Frodo consented.

Tea was served in the drawing room, with plates of sandwiches, seedcakes, tarts and other dainties laid out lavishly on tables around the room, but since it was a lovely, sunny day, the door to the garden was opened so that guests could wander in and out as they liked. There were a number of hobbits whom Frodo didn't know; most were elderly and middle-aged ladies who were part of Asphodel's select social circle, or young girls who were friends of Estella's. Both introduced Frodo with a note of pride, since he was the well-known detective. The older ladies hoped for some information; in spite of Mrs. Stillwaters's efforts to avoid a scandal, they could guess why Frodo was here. The girls giggled and said they were sure his work must be fascinating, but they were more interested, and giggled more delightedly, when Estella presented Ilberic.

Mr. Bilbury was also among the guests. "Mrs. Stillwaters invited me to return after my morning visit," he explained when Frodo stopped to speak to him. "We had a talk about Cammie, but I suppose you and I ought to talk as well, Mr. Baggins. No doubt you've turned up a few things that Mrs. Bilbury and I ought to know."

"Yes, I have, and perhaps you might tell me a few things too." This wasn't the place for an interview, but Frodo thought he might try a question or two now. "May I ask: When Camellia wrote Mrs. Bilbury, did she say that she might have some particular news to give you?"

"No, only that she was coming."

"She distinctly said she would arrive at your house in Overhill? She didn't ask you or your wife to meet her anywhere along the way?"

"No, of course not!" Mr. Bilbury huffed at the question. "Whyever would she do that?"

"Why indeed? We will have to speak privately, Mr. Bilbury, when it's more convenient for us both." But, right now, Frodo had a more important matter that required his attention.

After he'd left the bewildered Mr. Bilbury, Frodo went outside to see what other doors led into Stillwater Hall, and where he might possibly enter the more private rooms without being noticed. As he walked around behind the house, Frodo found Val in the back garden, seated alone on a wooden bench before the large lily-pond surrounded by flower beds. Val wore another striking waistcoat, this one of pale green with silvery leaves and vines embroidered on the front. Frodo thought that he really must find out the name of Val's tailor.

"Mr. Stillwaters," he said.

Val looked up, startled at the voice, but when he saw Frodo on the other side of the pond, he smiled. "It's you, Mr. Baggins. How pleasant to see you again. I'd heard you'd come back. Asked to Mother's tea, were you?"

"Not quite. I came with my Aunt Del," Frodo explained as he walked around the pond. "I didn't expect to find you here. I'd understood that you were rarely at home during the day."

"Did your cousin Fredegar tell you that? Yes, I know that he's been following my activities of late. I'm also aware that, in addition to Fredegar, you seem to have gathered an impressive little army of spies at the Badgers." Val didn't sound outraged about this, more as if he were resigned to the situation and even amused by their obviousness. "Have any of them come with you and Mrs. Burrows today?"

"Only Estella and my cousin Ilberic Brandybuck," said Frodo. "Ilbie isn't spying: Estella hopes to marry him."

"Really? How wonderful for her. I suppose I ought to go in and offer the child my congratulations--but I do hate the idea of entering that room full of gossiping old ladies and know they're watching my every move and whispering behind my back. I prefer to stay out of their sight."

"Would you rather I went away and left you alone?" Frodo offered.

"No, stay. Come and talk to me." Val gestured to the empty half of the bench beside him to invite Frodo to sit down. Frodo took the seat rather shyly, feeling that same bewildered uncertainty about Val's overtures of friendliness as he had on that day when Val had come to him to apologize. Flirtation or not, was it an attempt to win him over? "Tell me of your investigation. What have you learned so far, Mr. Baggins?"

"Much that puzzles and frightens me," Frodo admitted.

"Have you discovered where my wife is?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid. Do you know where she is, Mr. Stillwaters?"

"No, I don't. I've already told you and your minions so, and my answer won't change until I see her again, or until you tell me you've found her."

"Do you know about the boy she was supposed to have been in love with-" Frodo ventured, but only got so far before Val laughed.

"Yes, I know. In spite of Mother's best efforts, I have heard the gossip. It's all over Budgeford now. People will say the ugliest things!"

"Then you don't believe it?"

Val might easily have taken offense at this question, which cast doubt upon his wife's virtue, but he did not respond indignantly. He only answered Frodo with a mild terseness, "No, I don't. Whether it was true or not that Camellia had some sort of romance with this boy before we married, I refuse to believe there's anything in it now. She hasn't gone to him."

"You may be right about that," said Frodo.

Val lifted his eyebrows and looked extremely interested. "You've seen the boy?"

Frodo nodded. "My 'minions' found him, and I spoke to him yesterday. He says he hasn't seen her."

"And you take him at his word?"

"No... but I don't believe he's keeping her."

Val's eyes went over his face, as if he didn't know whether or not to believe Frodo, then he relaxed and sank back against the bench. "Well, then that's that!"

Once again, Frodo didn't know what to make of Val's reaction. In spite of his protests, did he actually think his wife had run away with Rolo? And now saw signs that it mightn't be true, why wasn't he wondering what had happened to her? There were some husbands who would rather have a wife mysteriously lost than a wife undeniably unfaithful--"possessive, jealous and clinging brutes," Val himself had called them--but Frodo would not have thought that Val was that sort after he had mocked them. Or was he mistaken, and was Val mocking his own honest feelings?

Frodo stayed a few more minutes, talking with Val about Milo--Val remembered Milo more fondly than Milo had remembered him--then excused himself and left. As long as Val was seated here, it would be impossible for him to get into the house via a back door unnoticed. He was going to need assistance after all.

When he returned to the drawing room, Frodo quickly located Estella and took her by the arm to draw her away from Ilbie and the group of congratulatory young hobbits who had gathered around them.

"'Stella, would you like to help with my investigation?" he asked her softly.

"Yes, Frodo, of course! What can I do?"

"I need you to create a disturbance, something that will draw everyone's attention to you for a few minutes. Can you do it?"

Estella quailed at the thought of being the center of attention, but she nodded.

"Good girl! Wait 'til I've gone to the other side of the room before you do anything."

Estella nodded again, and tried not to follow Frodo with her eyes as he went to the table near the door to have another slice of seedcake. She turned her back to him and stood for a moment, uncertain, then took a step or two as if she meant to return to her friends. Then she fainted.

Frodo thought it rather implausible--light-headed and sleepless with worry as he was, as well as nervous about the search he was about to conduct, he felt as if he were far more likely to swoon than lively little Estella--but she performed beautifully: her eyes rolled back; she dropped to knees with a soft groan, then fell face-down onto the rug with her head in her arms. Ilbie shouted and ran forward to take her up. In an instant, everyone was on their feet, gathering to make a fuss over the prostrate girl. Estella was carried to the nearest sofa. Mrs. Stillwater called for a glass of brandy to revive her.

In the confusion, Frodo left the drawing-room and stole down the corridor that led to the family bed-chambers. Although he had never been in Mrs. Stillwaters's rooms, his previous visit had given him an idea of the house's arrangement and he quickly found them farther down the same hallway as Val's and Camellia's. The lady of the house had an elegant suite of bedroom, boudoir, dressing room, and private bath. There was a desk in a small study-nook off the boudoir, and Frodo went directly to it, as the most obvious place to begin his search. He looked through the cubbyholes and desk drawers, heart pounding all the while. How would explain himself if he were caught?

It was not a gentlemanly act to go through someone else's desk--especially not when that person had engaged him to work for her. But even if Mrs. Stillwaters wasn't after the truth, he was.

In the central drawer, among the other letters and memoranda that Mrs. Stillwaters had kept, Frodo found what he was looking for: Camellia's letters tied in a bundle with the same faded scrap of ribbon, just as he had last seen them. His own note to Camellia was still tucked in on top of the pile.

Frodo returned to the drawing room with the packet of letters tucked inside the breast of his waistcoat; it made a slight bulge, but he had worn a loose-fitted jacket in anticipation of finding and concealing this very object. Estella was sitting up on the sofa, "recovered" from her fainting spell and sipping the brandy that Mrs. Stillwaters pressed on her. She submitted to Beryl's fussing and she didn't seem to mind Ilbie's patting her hand. Although the excitement was over, most of the hobbits in the room were still gathered around the girl. No one had observed Frodo's absence.

The party began to disperse soon after. Beryl insisted that Estella be taken home, and Asphodel's carriage was brought from the stable first. Others followed, thanking Mrs. Stillwaters for a most enjoyable time. After the last of the guests had departed, Frodo remained with his hostess to discuss his progress--though the conversation was not to be what the lady expected.

They left the drawing room so that the servants could clear the remains of the tea party, and went to a smaller, more private family parlor on the other side of the house. "Well now, Mr. Baggins," Mrs. Stillwaters said as she sat down. "Have you discovered anything that might lead us to find Camellia?"

"As a matter of fact, Mrs. Stillwaters, I've just made a remarkable discovery, although I can't yet say if it will help me to find your daughter-in-law. Perhaps you can tell me." Frodo took the packet of letters out of his waistcoat and set it down on the low table before her. "What do you know about these?"

The lady stared at the letters, and went pale. "Where- How did you find them?"

"When I learned that Camellia never received them, I asked at the post office," Frodo answered frankly. "I spoke to your courier, who remembered delivering them quite clearly. He said he gave them to you. I had only to look for them. It was an unforgivable breach of privacy and common courtesy, and I'm very sorry that I had to do it, but it hasn't been the first breach in this case."

Some of the color returned to Mrs. Stillwaters's face. "No, it hasn't," she agreed, and was silent for a minute while she composed herself. At last, she said, "It isn't normally my custom to open other people's private correspondence, Mr. Baggins, but the courier said that the package was for Mrs. Stillwaters, and I opened it before I realized my mistake. Once the package had been opened, I couldn't possibly give it to Camellia, and let her know that I knew why she had consulted you. That would have been a terrible embarrassment for us both. I thought it best to keep them. I did not read the letters--not then, not until after Camellia had gone, and I hoped to find some clue within them as to what had happened to her."

"Is this why you thought she'd gone to Rolo Bindbole?" asked Frodo. "Not because of any old gossip."

"I had heard the old gossip before Val and Camellia were betrothed, but I never knew the name of the boy involved before I saw it written there."

"And when she disappeared, you wrote to me because of this?"

"Your Aunt Asphodel had been urging me to do so, but it was your note to Camellia that decided me. I understood the service you'd performed for her. After she had gone, I thought you must know more of the matter than I did, and that I could rely on your discretion, as Camellia had." She looked dismayed. "Unfortunately, our efforts at discretion have been ineffective. People will talk scandal, and so they have."

"Did you know of Camellia's letters before then, Mrs. Stillwaters?" Frodo asked. "I'd also like to know why you hired Betula Root."

"Betula?" Mrs. Stillwaters was surprised at the question. "What does she have to do with this?"

"She was the one who stole those letters from your daughter-in-law," Frodo explained.

"Was she?" The lady's mouth turned down. "I hired Betula Root because I wanted a maid to attend Val's bride, and Betula was represented to me as a good, reliable girl who would do well as a lady's maid."

"Did you know her before you hired her?"

"No, but she came with recommendations. Her aunt is employed as cook for an acquaintance of mine in Whitfurrows. In time, I saw that I'd been misled as to her character. The girl was entirely unsuitable!"

"And you dismissed her," said Frodo. "Was it because she stole those letters from Camellia?"

"No. I didn't know she had until you told me... although I'm not in the least surprised to learn it. Betula was just the sort for thievery."

"You didn't ask her to take them from your daughter-in-law's writing desk?"

"Of course not!" Mrs. Stillwaters responded. "I realize that I've given you reason to doubt my scruples, but I resent the suggestion that I would ever commit so dishonest an act! I tell you that I had no idea that those letters existed, until they were returned to this house. I didn't know of them, nor of their theft or Betula's part in it."

"Why did you dismiss Betula then?" Frodo persisted. "How was she unsuitable?"

"Because..." She pressed her lips together, as if the words were distasteful, but she had to speak. "Betula Root was a scheming hussy who got above her proper place."

Frodo was about to ask what she meant by this, and then he understood--and, suddenly, he saw it all.

He rode back to the Inn in a dazed and nauseous state, and went straight to his room. Sam, who was hanging about the common room, saw him come in, and followed. He found Frodo lying on the bed looking frighteningly pale.

"Are you all right, Frodo?"

"I'm going to be sick."

Sam asked no more questions, but immediately took a clean chamberpot out from under the bed. Crouched at the bedside, he held the pot steady with one hand, and tried to keep Frodo's hair out of his face with the other while Frodo retched.

After he'd emptied his stomach, Frodo turned away and curled up into a ball. Sam, efficient as always in tending to Frodo when he was ill, moistened a washcloth with cool water from the pitcher on the washstand to bathe the back of Frodo's neck and, when he turned over to lie on his back, his brow and temples, then dabbed around his mouth and chin. When Frodo was ready, Sam gave him a cup of water to rinse the foul taste out of his mouth.

"I knew you were coming to a bad turn," Sam said while he made Frodo drink more water in small sips. "I could see it when you were talking about Mrs. Camellia being dead-" He stopped there; he understood now why Frodo felt sick. "She is, isn't she? You know it for certain now."

Frodo nodded weakly.

"D'you know what happened to her?"

"I think so, but I need to find something to show that I'm right. I'd like to find Rolo and Betula Root to be sure. I also want a word with the Stillwaters' gardener. I need to know who was the hobbit-lad he saw with Camellia just before she disappeared."

"That Rolo says it wasn't him," Sam said skeptically. "In any case, you're not going out again today."

Frodo didn't feel like arguing, nor did he feel like getting up. His head was still whirling. "No, tomorrow," he agreed. "Will you run an errand for me today, Sam? I'm going to write a note. Will you take it to the Bolgers' house and give it to Fatty? Tell him I have one last task for him, and then we're through."

"All right," Sam consented, "but only if you stay here and rest."

"Of course," said Frodo, and reached out to take and squeeze his friend's hand. In spite of everything that was happening, he couldn't help being aware that, as long as he was in danger of having a bad spell, Sam was fully attentive to him without his having to ask for it. Frodo wryly thought that he ought to have bad spells more often.

There were footsteps pattering in the hall, and then Merry and Pippin stopped as they went past the doorway, seeing Frodo lying on the bed, and recognizing the distinctive smell of vomit from their own heavy drinking bouts.

"Frodo's not well," Sam told them, even though it was obvious.

"Had too much tea at Stillwater Hall?" Pippin asked.

"Something like that," Frodo replied with a faint smile. "Did you find him?"

Pippin shook his head and looked to Merry, who said, "Not a sign. I've been halfway up and down the north road, and Pip took the road west, and as far as we could tell, Rolo hasn't gone either way. No one's seen him."

"He probably went across the fields--it's the most direct way to the Wood. We all know that's where he's gone," said Pippin.

"Do you want us to go there and get him, Frodo?"

Frodo could see that neither was very keen to take another long journey, but they would do it if he asked them to. "No," he said. "We know where he is, just as Pip says. I have more questions to ask Rolo, but I think I'd better call on the local Chief Shirriff instead of sending you chasing after him."

"Tomorrow," Sam insisted.

"Yes, tomorrow."

---

After the turmoil and travel of the last few days, it was no surprise that the bad turn Sam had predicted should come that very night.

Frodo dreamt that he stood on the bank of the Brandywine River with Sam, Merry, Pippin, and Melilot. It was a place he knew well: the steep earthwork embankment with a footpath atop and long-stemmed blue asters growing on the slope that led down to the swift-flowing river; the rushes growing in the shallows; the long muddy flat where boats could be pulled ashore. It wasn't far from where his parents had drowned.

Camellia Stillwaters was standing knee-deep in the river, dragging her sodden skirts in the murky waters as she waded in deeper. They called out to her to stop, to turn back, but she went on all the same.

At the edge of the shallows, she turned toward them and smiled--a ghastly, heart-rending smile on a white face full of grief and agony, with eyes that were touched with madness. He would never forget that terrible smile. Then she flung herself into the water.

"No!" Frodo cried out. He would have dived into the river after her, but someone had taken hold of him. His wrists were captured and as he screamed incoherently and struggled furiously to free himself, he was only held all the more firmly. His arms were pinned to his sides and there was no hope of escape.

It was only when he heard the voice saying, "Frodo, stop it! Don't you know where you are?" that he fully awoke and realized he'd been fighting Sam.

"She's not in the river," Frodo said, and went limp. His head flopped back onto Sam's shoulder. He lay there in the strong arms that were still wrapped around him, breathing hard, slowly emerging from the depths of his dream. When there was a tap on the door, Sam set him gently down on the bed and got up to answer it.

Frodo heard Merry whisper, "We heard him scream. How is he?"

"It's just one of his bad dreams," Sam whispered back. "He's awake now. He'll be all right once he quiets down and gets back to sleep. I'll look after him--don't you worry."

There were more whispered words between them; Frodo thought he heard Ilbie and Pippin too, although they spoke so softly that he found it hard to distinguish one voice from the others. Then the door shut.

"I knew this was coming!" Sam said as he returned to the bed. "Thank goodness we aren't at home. I mightn't've heard you call out if I was with Rose."

"I'm sorry, Sam," Frodo said as he snuggled closer to burrow against the warm, cuddlesome body of his lover. "I didn't realize it was you. I was trying to go after her..."

"In the river," Sam repeated. "Was it her you were dreaming of, Frodo, of Mrs. Camellia?"

"Sort of, but it was really my cousin Mentha I was thinking of." Frodo saw why the two should be mingled in his mind: Mentha Brandybuck had been another woman he might have helped, if only he'd seen the truth in time. He'd been too late on that day as well.

He began to weep and Sam, as always, offered whatever comfort he could: he gathered Frodo up and held onto him tightly, cradled him, rocked him, stroked his hair and murmured soothing sounds. He placed gentle kisses on Frodo's brow and wet cheeks.

After awhile, Frodo lifted his face to return the kisses. "Will you stay right here with me tonight, Sam?" It was a nonsensical question under the circumstances--there was no other bedroom down the hallway here at the inn where Sam could go--but, nevertheless, he couldn't bear the idea of being left alone.

"Course I will," Sam promised him. "I wouldn't leave you, Frodo. I'll be right here all night, should you need me."

There was one more kiss, and then Frodo relaxed in his lover's embrace and shut his eyes. Though sleep would elude him for some time, he was comforted. "I don't know what I'd do without you, dear Sam. I don't ever want to find out!"

Fatty came by the next morning while they were at breakfast. Frodo was opening the mail Rosie had forwarded from Bag End--and one letter that Milo had sent directly to him at the Inn.

"I got your note last night, Frodo," Fatty said as he took a seat at Frodo's table and helped himself to a piece of toast. "Do I understand it correctly? You want me to find one of Val's friends who was with him on the day his wife disappeared?"

"Yes, that's right." Frodo poured his cousin a cup of tea. "I looked through your notes yesterday and noticed that the same names are mentioned again and again. Val seems to have a small circle of companions he goes about with nearly every day, and I wouldn't be surprised if this same group were with him that evening."

"They might not be willing to answer your questions, Frodo, not if it'd put Val in a bad light." Fatty regarded him with interest. "And I expect that just what you hope to do, isn't it?"

"I have an idea, and I'd like it confirmed or disputed," Frodo replied rather cryptically. "There are also one or two other odd little matters in this case that need to be cleared up." He was pale this morning with purplish shadows under his eyes, but there was a cool, business-like grimness in his manner. He meant to finish this as quickly as he could.

Fatty was not the only one who was interested in Frodo's plans; Sam, who sat at Frodo's side, and Merry, Pippin, and Ilbie at another table nearby, were also listening.

"Well..." Fatty considered the problem and helped himself to more toast. "I'm on better terms with some of Val's friends than others. Luddy Binglebottom might do. If he wasn't with Val that night, he'd know who was. He's the only one of the lot I might call a friend of mine as well and he might agree to talk to you, Frodo, but he lives in Whitfurrows."

"I intend to go there today in any case," Frodo answered. "Why don't you come along and introduce me to Mr. Binglebottom? Whitfurrows is only two miles away. I couldn't go much farther than that myself. Sam won't allow it, after my bad turn last night." He reached out to put one hand over Sam's before he realized that Fatty and Ilbie might wonder about this overly-familiar gesture--but, if either noticed, they didn't seem to think anything of it.

Fatty said, "I heard you weren't well, Frodo. That must have been quite a tea-party at the Stillwaters' yesterday, with you coming away sick and 'Stella falling over in a faint." He smiled wryly, for Estella had told him about the 'distraction' she had provided for Frodo. The boys at the other table, who had also heard this story, grinned. "If you're sure you're feeling up to it, and your Sam doesn't object, a trip to Whitfurrows isn't too much to ask of me. Shall we go before luncheon? The Beeshive serves a very nice lunch."

Frodo agreed to this and, as he finished his last cup of tea, read Milo's letter, which confirmed what the innkeeper had told him: Mr. Bilbury had been away from home for two days at the beginning of the month.

Mr. Bilbury came into the breakfast room a few minutes later. "Mr. Baggins, good morning! I missed you at dinner last night. Your friend here said you were taken ill after yesterday's tea." He studied Frodo's face, but could not doubt the claim of illness. "Are you quite recovered?"

"I am feeling better, thank you."

"Will you speak with me now, about- ah-?" He was reluctant to be more specific with so many young hobbit-lads and the innkeeper's daughter in the room.

"Yes, I will," Frodo consented and put down his letter.

He went with Mr. Bilbury to another table near the window, where the innkeeper's daughter had put down a pot of fresh tea for the older hobbit, and went out to the kitchen to fetch his breakfast. Merry and Pippin left to enjoy their day's holiday, and Ilbie went to see Estella. Sam finished his breakfast and Fatty finished the toast.

"Will you answer a few questions for me as well, Mr. Bilbury?" Frodo asked as they sat down. "I'd like to clear up a point or two that have been puzzling me."

"Of course..." Mr. Bilbury answered reluctantly. "What do you want to know?"

"You've been here before," said Frodo, "not for your niece's wedding, but more recently. About two weeks ago, as a matter of fact. August 5th, I believe."

"It was the 6th, actually," said Mr. Bilbury, but his face had gone red. "How did you know? Our good innkeeper must have told you."

"Mr. Noakes merely told me what I'd already guessed. I've had information from other sources as well. May I ask why you came? Did Camellia write and ask you to meet her here?"

"She did." Mr. Bilbury was still red-faced and reluctant. "She never wrote a word about- well, about that boy, but she said she wanted to come home for an extended stay and was bringing her personal belongings, more than a bag or two. Rue and I suspected Cammie had quarreled with her husband, but we refused to believe there was anything more behind it.

"I came, as Cammie asked. I waited here for her to arrive, just as she said she would. She asked me not to go to Stillwater Hall. I would have, when she didn't come by dinner-time, but it was then that some of local folk came in and I happened to overhear their gossip. They were saying that the young lady at the Hall had gone missing that morning. I thought- Well, I didn't like to consider the idea, but I couldn't help thinking-"

"You thought she'd changed her mind and, rather than return home to you and Mrs. Bilbury, went away with 'that boy'," Frodo finished the sentence for him.

Mr. Bilbury blustered and turned very red again at hearing this spoken aloud, but in the end, he had to admit that it was what he'd believed. "I didn't dare tell Rue," he said. "It would break her heart. I told her that Cammie had been detained and was coming by herself afterwards. Poor Rue watched for her to come, but it was better than her learning the truth. Better she think the poor child had some sort of accident along the way. Well, with all the neighbors talking, she'll have to hear the worst sooner or later. Cammie has flown with him, hasn't she, Mr. Baggins? It's what you've found out--I know it's so."

"Actually, I've found out something very different," Frodo told him. "Your niece is not with Rolo Bindbole. I'm certain of that."

Mr. Bilbury looked momentarily relieved, then a new look of concern clouded his face. "Then where-?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you her exact whereabouts yet," Frodo said. "I have a few inquiries to make today that should settle the matter entirely, and then I will be able to explain to you what's happened to Camellia. You must brace yourself for some sad news." Given Mr. Bilbury's attitude, he wondered if the truth would be more welcome than thinking that she had abandoned her husband to live adulterously with Rolo. "I hope to visit the Stillwaters this afternoon. Will you join me then?"

A short ride brought Frodo, Fatty, and Sam to Whitfurrows by mid-morning. Fatty took them to the house of Val's friend, Ludovic Binglebottom. Ludovic was a prosperous young hobbit of about Val's age; he lived by himself in a cozy home, left to him by his parents, on the outskirts of town, with a maid, cook, and manservant to attend him. The maid answered the door and said she would see if her master was up yet, then showed them to the parlor before she had a whispered conference with the manservant. The manservant ventured into his master's bedroom.

Ludovic emerged about ten minutes later. He was not so handsome as Val, nor so well-dressed, but he had a genial if somewhat silly face. He welcomed his unexpected guests cheerfully, apologized for keeping them waiting--he had overslept, hadn't even had his first cup of morning tea yet--and rang for some to be brought in.

"Now, Fredegar," he said as he took a seat on the sofa after these important preliminaries had been completed, "what can I do for you and your friends?"

"Luddy, this is my cousin, Frodo Baggins, and his friend and associate, Sam Gamgee," Fatty made the introduction. "You may have heard of them."

"Yes, indeed! It's quite a thrill to meet you, Mr. Baggins. I've heard so much about you and your work. And Mr. Gamgee assists you? How exciting that must be! Of course, I know you've been in Budgeford lately because of this awful, scandalous business of Val's wife. But what brings you to me?"

"Frodo wanted to talk to you, as a friend of Val's," Fatty explained. "He thought you might answer a few questions."

"I'll be happy to, if I can--if it will help Val," Ludovic spoke more thoughtfully now. "It will help him, won't it?"

"I can't promise it will aid Val," Frodo answered carefully. "It may not. That will depend upon what you tell me. I hope it will help me to learn what happened to Mrs. Stillwaters. I understand that you mayn't wish to talk to me if you think it will harm your friend."

"How can it?" Ludovic asked him. "Unless Val's done something wrong. He hasn't--I'm sure he wants his wife to come home, no matter what she's done. All the same, I don't wish to make trouble. Here, why don't you let me hear your questions, Mr. Baggins, and let me decide?"

"Very well." Frodo began: "You had dinner with Val Stillwaters on the night of August 5th?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." Ludovic had no difficulty in answering this first question. "It was the last day of the Bridgefield races before the ponies were lent out for the haymaking, you see, and we were celebrating the end of the season. We met at a little place near the Brandywine Bridge--perhaps you know it?"

"I know of it," said Fatty, "but I don't think Frodo's familiar with it."

"I only know what I've heard," said Frodo, thinking of the day when Fatty, Pippin, and Merry had followed Val out to the Bridge. "It's a gaming house, I believe?"

"Yes, that's it. One of our regular haunts. We had quite a little party! It was Val and I, Knobby Ribblethorpe, Setwale Biggs-Wither, Darco Underhaye--our usual circle."

"When did he leave?" asked Frodo. "Did he stay at your party very late?"

"Val?" Ludovic considered this while the maidservant brought in a tea-tray and a plate of warm currant-buns. He embarked on his first breakfast, and encouraged his guests to have their second. "Val did leave us rather early that night. Perhaps eight o'clockish, around dusk."

"Was that usual?" Frodo asked next.

"Not before he married, no. We'd be out 'til all hours of the night. But since he'd married, Val made a point of going home early more often. Was that the night he told us his wife and mother were expecting him? Yes, I think it was. He couldn't disappoint the ladies, you know--although Mrs. Val must have gone off by then and wasn't waiting when he got home."

"We're nearly done," said Frodo. "One last question: Can you tell me what he was wearing that night?"

Ludovic and Fatty both looked perplexed. Even Sam, who more used to Frodo's peculiar questions, didn't know what to make of this.

"What an odd thing to ask!" Ludovic laughed. "It'd been a warm day, so I'm quite certain he had no coat with him. He was in shirt-sleeves. We all were. I don't recall which waistcoat Val wore, although I'm sure it was a handsome one... No. No, I'm wrong. Now you mention it, Mr. Baggins, it was a subdued sort of waistcoat for our Val. A light shade of brown, I believe, but then he was around the ponies and stables all day, and mightn't have wanted to muss up his nicer clothes." He regarded Frodo expectantly. "Now, I've answered--does it serve Val for good or ill?"

Frodo didn't answer this. Instead, he said, "You've been very helpful, Mr. Binglebottom. Thank you."

---

"I must say, it was fascinating to see you at you work, Frodo," Fatty said as the trio went into the Beeshive Tavern at midday. The sherriff's office lay on the other side of the Whitfurrows Market Green, but the Chief Sherriff had been out when they visited. Frodo had left a note; he and Sam would return later, while Fatty planned to go home after lunch. "I hate to admit that I don't see the point of some of your questions."

"Nor do I," Sam agreed, "but there's a point to 'em, don't you worry, Mr. Fatty. Frodo knows what he's doing."

"Oh, I don't doubt it, but I'd like to understand." They went into common-room, which was busy with the luncheon crowd. The only table available was near the half-open door that led to the kitchens. "Well, Frodo?" Fatty asked his cousin as they sat down.

"It's really very simple," Frodo replied. "I wanted to find out what time Val left his friends on the night his wife disappeared."

"Yes, I grasped that."

"Are you very familiar with this gaming house Mr. Binglebottom spoke of?" Frodo asked.

"I know of it," said Fatty. "I've never been within--I've no interest in dicing or darts-for-wager, you know--but I've ridden past it often enough."

"You know the land on this side of the Brandywine. Tell me: Is there another way Val might have gone home, besides the road through Budgeford and north? Is there a short-cut across the fields?"

"There's a path that runs along the bank of the river," Fatty answered. "I can't speak from personal knowledge, but if you were going to Stillwater Hall from that little pub, I imagine it'd be quicker to go up the river-side than by way of Budgeford, and there'd be less chance of being seen. All right, Frodo--I see the meaning of your questions about Val's comings and goings that night. All perfectly sensible. But may I point out that anybody might've come or gone that way just as easily. And why did you ask Luddy what he was wearing? I don't see how it matters what color Val's waistcoat was."

"Don't you?" asked Frodo. "You agree that Val Stillwaters is a dandified gentleman. You know him much better than I do, Fatty. Wouldn't you say that he's normally well-dressed in colorful clothes?"

"Of course."

"The day I saw Mr. Val," said Sam, "he was wearing a waistcoat of bright red and gold. You could've spotted 'm coming a mile off."

Fatty laughed, also remembering that particular waistcoat. "So you could!"

"Can you think of no reason why he might want to be dressed less conspicuously?" Frodo asked them.

"He wouldn't be seen then," answered Sam. "He wouldn't be noticed."

Frodo smiled. "And if he were dressed more plainly, he might not be easily recognized."

"Well, yes..."

"He might even be mistaken for someone else, especially if he were seen at some distance in the fading evening light, by a pair of old eyes?"

Sam goggled. "But that was Rolo! We know he was there."

"Do we, Sam?"

"Why'd he run off then if he wasn't guilty?"

Fatty followed this exchange imperfectly, but he couldn't misunderstand what Frodo was implying. "Frodo, do you actually mean to say-?"

The question was interrupted by sounds of a scuffle in the kitchen hallway. Frodo turned in time to see an unexpected face peek out from behind the half-open door, then disappear abruptly, as if the person had been pulled back by some unseen force. Frodo rose and left the table, Sam following. They both recognized that briefly glimpsed face: Rolo had not fled to Bindbole Wood after all.

When they went into the hallway, they found Rolo struggling with Betula Root. Rolo held the girl by the arm; Betula was fighting to pull herself free, but Rolo seemed just as determined to hang on.

"Here now, what is this?" Sam ploughed in and seized them both by the wrists. "You stop what you're doing!" he ordered Rolo gruffly.

"Have you known where she was all along, Rolo?" Frodo asked.

Rolo gaped at Frodo in dismay. "No, I just found her." When he relaxed his grip on Betula's arm, she tried to dart away down the corridor toward the kitchen, only to find that Sam still had her wrist.

"Let go o' me! I an't done nothing!" she protested. "Whatever he's done, it's naught to do with me! You got no reason to keep after me."

"Actually, Miss Root, we've been looking for you too," Frodo told her. "No more nonsense from either of you. I mean to hear the truth. And after I've heard it, you'll come with me to the sherriff's office. He'll hear what you have to say, and then we'll go together to Stillwater Hall."

They went to Stillwater Hall that afternoon: Turlo Bilbury, Betula Root, and Rolo Bindbole. The first came at Frodo's invitation, and the other two only because Frodo had insisted. Sam kept watch over both Rolo and Betula until he left the party at Hall's front door; Frodo had another errand for him. Mrs. Stillwaters was bewildered to see so many disparate people entering her drawing-room.

Frodo went to the window and looked out over the garden with its trimmed green lawns, quiet lily ponds, and abundant flowers in bloom. He located Sam standing under a cluster of young chestnut trees, talking to the elderly gardener. There were other hobbits around, though he could not see them from here; they were waiting outside the Hall grounds with their distinctive red-feathered caps tucked out of sight.

He turned back to the little party he had assembled. "I suppose you must be wondering why I've brought you together here."

"I wonder very much, Mr. Baggins." Mrs. Stillwaters regarded the two young hobbits Frodo had brought with him with cool curiosity: Betula stared back at her, frightened but defiant.

"I assume you've got news of Cammie, and you're going to tell us at last," said Mr. Bilbury, who had taken a seat.

"Yes, I am," Frodo assured him. "Do you all know each other? Mrs. Stillwaters, I'm sure you remember Betula Root."

"I do indeed," Mrs. Stillwaters said icily. "Although I did not expect to see her in my house again."

"It is necessary," Frodo assured her, then told Mr. Bilbury, "Miss Root was your niece's maid here. Do you either of you know-?" He gestured to Rolo.

Mrs. Stillwaters considered the young hobbit. "He looks familiar... Yes, I believe I've seen him around our gardens. You worked for us briefly, earlier this summer, didn't you, lad?"

"Yes'm, that's right," Rolo said in a mumble. "I wasn't using my right name then, but I expect you know it."

The lady looked confused by this answer, and Frodo explained, "This is Rolo Bindbole."

"This is Rolo-!" Mr. Bilbury was on his feet. Rolo immediately stepped backwards toward the door, to exit quickly if he had to.

Frodo deftly moved to stand between the two and block Mr. Bilbury's path. "You never saw Rolo when he was courting Camellia?" he asked.

"No," Mr. Bilbury spoke to Frodo, but his gaze remained fixed intently on Rolo. "I never set eyes on him before."

"This boy and Betula were in league together?" asked Mrs. Stillwaters.

"We weren't, Ma'am!" Rolo protested. "I hardly saw her here at the Hall, and she never saw me to notice. That's why I went after her."

"Do you know what's become of Cammie?" Mr. Bilbury demanded.

"I don't!" Rolo answered, "I want the truth, same as you."

"That's why you escaped from us at the Inn: you went looking for Betula," said Frodo. He had already heard Rolo's explanation of the struggle he'd come upon at the inn, but he wanted it repeated for the others to hear.

"I knew you didn't believe me, Mr. Baggins. You thought I did away with her too, didn't you? So I went to find her. No harm'd come to her--she was in Whitfurrows all the time, staying with her aunt and working at the Beeshive inn. I'd found her and was trying to get her to come tell the truth, when we saw you and your friends come in." Rolo scowled at Betula. "She was going to run out the back and I wasn't about to let her. She had to tell that I wasn't the one she kept company with. 'Twasn't me who told her to take Cammie's letters."

Mr. Bilbury listened to this incredulously, then turned to Frodo. "And you take this scoundrel at his word?"

"I had grave suspicions about Rolo's honesty," Frodo admitted. "I suspected you as well-"

"Me?" Mr. Bilbury sputtered.

"Yes, when I found out about your previous visit to Budgeford. And Miss Root too, for other reasons. In fact, I could find some reason that each of you might wish for Camellia to disappear: jealousy, or family honor, or spite. That's why I wanted you here today. You are the people most intimately concerned with this puzzle--you, and the Stillwaters. I'm sorry to find Valerian's not here."

"Val is expected home shortly," said Mrs. Stillwaters. "I'm sure he'll want to hear the truth of this matter too."

"He'll hear the truth--all of you will--but perhaps it's best that we start without him..." Frodo glanced out of the window again; Sam and Mr. Rakeweed were walking away in the direction of the back garden and the orchard. When they were out of his sight, he said, "Yes, let's begin. As I said, I had reasons to suspect each one of you. You've kept secrets: none of you told me all you knew about Camellia and the circumstances that led to her disappearance, and yet each of you knows a key part of that story. I have my part too, that I've kept secret. I propose to bring the pieces together now, so we can hear the full story of what happened to Camellia."

He told them how Camellia had engaged him to retrieve the love letters she and Rolo had written to each other before she had married.

"She was extremely nervous that day when she came to me for help," he concluded his story. "She didn't want her new family to learn about her past love affair. She was especially worried that her husband would find out, just as you were anxious to keep it from him, Mrs. Stillwaters, when you asked me to find her. Neither of you needed to be at such pains--he knew already."

"Val knows?" asked his mother, astonished at this news.

"Oh, yes. He told me so himself yesterday."

"He's heard the gossip," Mrs. Stillwaters said with dismay. "I suppose that was inevitable."

"Yes, it was... but he knew about Camellia's romance with Rolo long before the gossip was widespread. You see, Val was the one who had Camellia's maid steal her letters from her writing desk so he could read them." Frodo turned to the maidservant. "Wasn't he, Betula?"

"You don't need me to tell you," Betula said petulantly.

"Yes, I do," insisted Frodo. "I'd like you to tell us your part in this, your own words. It was Mr. Stillwaters, wasn't it?"

"You know it was, but there was nought wrong between us!" Betula replied. "And him married!"

"Nevertheless, he flirted with you, didn't he?" Frodo pursued the point. "Coaxed you into doing as he asked-"

"I never did!"

"You agreed to steal his wife's letters for him. That was why Mrs. Stillwaters dismissed you: She saw you with her son and made a mistaken, but natural assumption about what you were up to."

"Yes, that is why I dismissed the girl," Mrs. Stillwaters confirmed. "I observed what I thought was an improper passage between my son and this maidservant. They were seated together on a bench in the back garden, whispering, with their hands together. I sent her away from the Hall immediately, and sent her things after her."

"He was only giving the letters back to me, saying his thanks," said Betula. "I told you it was nothing, Ma'am. I couldn't say more."

"I understand why you couldn't explain more fully--but if you had, I would have dismissed you just as swiftly," the lady countered; Betula yelped in protest. "Theft is as a good a reason for dismissal as misconduct. My actions were entirely justified."

"Is that why you took the letters with you when you left the Hall, rather than return your mistress's property, out of revenge?" Frodo asked Betula before the conversation between former mistress and maid became an outright quarrel. "Or was that part of the plan?"

"'Twas my plan," Betula responded, and continued to regard Mrs. Stillwaters with sulky and hostile glare. "Mr. Val said I could put 'em back in the desk after he had his look, but I never got the chance. I had 'em with me after Old Missus tossed me out, and he never said a word on my side, only let her think what she liked. I could've put 'em in the fire, but I thought as they might come in useful one way or t'other. 'Twould be a way to get my own back at the whole lot of Stillwaterses. I never even got a penny for my troubles, not out of Mr. Val." She turned her glowering gaze upon Rolo. "And then you came and bought 'em when we mighta got gold!"

Mr. Bilbury had been following this tale of the letters with some confusion. "So Rolo has them?"

"No, sir," said Frodo. "He was working as a gardener here, remember. He observed this exchange as well. He'd seen Val Stillwaters and Betula meet in the garden before--didn't you, Rolo? 'He plays about,' you said. I thought you meant gaming, but you'd made the same mistaken assumption about their meetings that Mrs. Stillwaters had. On that particular day, however, you observed something that Mrs. Stillwaters had not: you saw Betula put the letters into her apron pocket, and you knew what they were. You might have told me that when I asked you how you knew she had them, by the way."

"You didn't believe anything else I was saying," said Rolo. "You would've thought I was being jealous and spiteful, lying and making accusations against Mr. Stillwaters."

Frodo conceded that this was likely. "But if I had known, it might have helped me to understand what had happened earlier.

"Rolo traced Betula to Frogmorton," he continued to explain to Mr. Bilbury. "There, he purchased the stolen letters from a friend of hers, whom she had entrusted to keep them, then he brought them to me. He'd heard I was looking for them, and he wanted me to return them to their rightful owner on his behalf. I sent them, and Mrs. Stillwaters received them." Frodo tactfully left it unclear which Mrs. Stillwaters he was referring to. "That should have been an end to the matter, except that, shortly afterwards, the lady vanished.

"Since I've been asked to look into Camellia's disappearance, I've learned several important facts about her life: I've heard that Camellia and Valerian were by all accounts seen as a happy couple until a month or so ago, when she began to appear troubled. She wrote her aunt and uncle to say she planned to return to them for an extended visit. She asked Mr. Bilbury to come to Budgeford and help her carry her belongings back to Overhill." Mr. Bilbury confirmed that this was so. "In another letter to a close friend, she confided that she feared she had made 'a dreadful mistake.' I haven't been able to discover exactly what was troubling Camellia, but these points lead me to conclude that she intended to leave Stillwater Hall, perhaps permanently."

"She meant to visit her family in Overhill," said Mrs. Stillwater. "She'd spoken of it frequently, and both Val and I were aware of her plans. But if you're suggesting that she meant to abandon her marriage, Mr. Baggins, I'm sure you're mistaken. She couldn't have departed on such a journey that evening. She hadn't even packed her bags!"

"Yes, that's so," Frodo agreed. "I can only guess at her intentions. We may never know what she meant to do. And she didn't leave for Overhill that night. Before she could make her planned journey, something very odd occurred. She walked out to the apple orchard one evening... and never returned. I believe she went into the orchard to meet someone. She was last seen talking with someone there."

"It was him!" said Mr. Bilbury, glaring again at Rolo.

"Perhaps that's whom she was expecting," said Frodo, "but Rolo isn't the person who was waiting there for her."

"I'm not certain I understand what you mean," Mrs. Stillwaters said.

"Well, I certainly don't understand it," Mr. Bilbury spoke impatiently. "Enough of these games, Mr. Baggins. What's all this rigmarole about stolen letters and who Cammie did and didn't meet in the orchard? Say what you mean! Where is she? Do you know?"

"Yes, I know." He couldn't avoid the ugly and tragic truth any longer. "This will be very hard for you to hear, Mr. Bilbury, and you, Rolo--but I'm afraid, Mrs. Stillwaters, that it will be hardest for you. You may regret that you brought me into this." Frodo went to the window to look once again out at the gardens. Sam and the old gardener had returned; Sam was carrying a well-worn tweed coat and a battered straw hat. "Camellia is here. She's been here all along. She never left the grounds of Stillwater Hall that night."

He tried to broach the truth as gently as possible, but he could see that they understood: Rolo's mouth opened and shut, and his eyes filled with tears. Mr. Bilbury was no longer flushed and indignant, but ashen-faced. Mrs. Stillwaters sat silent and stunned.

Betula looked from one to another. "What d'you mean--she's here? She's run off! That's what everybody says."

"That's what everyone was meant to think," Frodo answered. "It's just what he wanted all along--a scandal suits Val Stillwaters's purposes perfectly."

"Why would I want a scandal?" Val asked, catching these last words as he came into the drawing room. "What's going on, Mr. Baggins? Mother, what's wrong? What are these people doing here? Mr. Bilbury, always a pleasure, of course, but our wayward Betula, and... Rhabdo, is it?"

"My name's Rolo--and you know it," said Rolo, and flung himself forward as if he meant to strike Val with both fists, but Frodo caught him by the arm. As he held the struggling young hobbit by the elbow, he explained:

"What I mean, Mr. Stillwaters, is that in spite of every effort to avoid a scandal about your wife's disappearance, there is one. Half the Shire talks of how she must have flown with her lover. That is what you intended, isn't it? If everyone believes that Camellia's run away, then no one will be suspicious if they never see her again. They'll be very sorry that her family has to endure such a disgrace, but they won't wonder what's happened to her. They might not even notice that she left her money in her husband's hands."

Mrs. Stillwaters, who had been motionless, now made a soft, choked sound and pressed a handkerchief to her lips.

"It was all perfectly safe, as long as Rolo was far away in the heart of Bindbole Wood," Frodo continued. "He might never had heard that Camellia was missing if we hadn't found him. If he said she wasn't with him, who would believe him? If he denied it, he'd be the one we'd first suspect, not you. But you were the one who had Betula steal Camellia's letters, and you had Rolo dig up those flower beds. I thought from the first that you knew where your wife had gone, but I didn't see until yesterday exactly what that meant. You do know where she is, don't you?"

Val stood pale and speechless. Another hobbit, an older, large and imposing male with his red-feathered cap in his hands, came silently to stand in the doorway behind him, effectively blocking the way out; he had been waiting outside for the master of Stillwater Hall to come home.

"My friend, Mr. Gamgee, has been talking with your gardener," Frodo finished. "He's found the old hat and coat you were wearing that evening when you met your wife in the orchard. I've suggested to the Whitfurrows Chief Sherriff--Mr. Horrocks, behind you--that he search for Camellia in those places where the earth has been turned up recently... unless you'd like to spare the sherriffs tearing up the garden and tell us exactly where you buried her, Mr. Stillwaters."

Frodo sat at the desk in his room at the inn the next day, writing a letter to Angelica to tell her about Camellia. He had already spoken to the Bolgers and Aunt Asphodel, and would have preferred to give Angelica the sad news of her friend's death in person too, but circumstances compelled him to remain in Budgeford a few more days; the news would come to Angelica by other routes before he could travel to Michel Delving to see her.

Sam came in. He wore a grim expression, and Frodo turned to him with wide, expectant eyes.

"They found her," he told Frodo. "One of the sherriffs just came by to tell you. Mr. Stillwaters finally told 'em where he put her."

"Where-" Frodo asked. "Where was she?"

"In one of the flower beds at the back of the house, by the big pond."

Frodo felt slightly sick again when he realized that he must have only been a few feet from the spot where she'd been buried when he'd sat talking with Val. "He didn't have to carry her far from the orchard," he said. "He had only to wait until it was dark, place her in the freshly turned earth, and put the flowers back. No one would know."

"Mr. Rakeweed told me about some of the bulbs in the back-garden being planted wrong, but I didn't think to tell you, Frodo," Sam said apologetically. "It didn't seem like much--you know how particular old gardeners are about having things done their own way, and besides, well, that Rolo wasn't any sort of a gardener. He wouldn't know how to plant bulbs proper."

"What about those clothes you found, Sam? Were they Rolo's?"

"They were Mr. Rakeweed's, from his garden shed off by the orchard wall. He said he'd let the lads who was hired to work in the garden wear 'em sometimes if they didn't have proper work-clothes of their own."

"And the person he saw with Camellia was wearing them?"

Sam nodded. "That's what he told me--'twas a young hobbit, wearing his old tweed coat and hat. As he lent them to Rolo last, he guessed it must be him."

"It's just as I thought. When we learned that Val had dressed more plainly than usual that evening, I wondered if he hadn't put on the sort of garments a gardener would wear--or even something of Rolo's if he could get hold of it." Frodo sighed. "When I first considered the idea that Camellia had been murdered, Sam, I knew that either Val or Rolo must have done it. There were reasons to suspect Mr. Bilbury, and Betula and that boy-friend of hers too, but there was no place any of them could have hidden her where she wouldn't have been found days ago. Val and Rolo had much better opportunities to hide her body where no one would ever find it.

"I was distracted by thoughts of the river, until Rolo told us that Val had hired him specially to dig up the flower beds at Stillwater Hall. I knew then where she was, and it was only a question finding out of which one had put her there.

"It wasn't until Mrs. Stillwaters told me that she'd dismissed Betula for 'getting above her proper place' that I realized the girl must have committed some sort of impropriety with Val. The lady of a great house would neither notice nor care if a maid-servant was dallying with a garden-lad, but with her son-! That would be an unforgivable breach. You know there was something of a scandal about Betula's leaving the Hall."

Sam nodded. "It was why her grand-dad took her away, over her 'troubles' with some lad."

"It occurred to me then that Val was not only the mysterious lad that Betula had had her 'troubles' with, but that he was in league with her over the theft of the letters. It was then only a matter of finding some proof. Finding her. I was afraid Val had done away with her too to keep her quiet--but it was only our repeated questions and the ruination of her friendship with Jorly that led her to fly from Frogmorton and return to her aunt's house."

"And we mightn't've have found her again, without Rolo."

"Thank goodness he was determined to prove his innocence to us! I wonder how far Val planned it in advance. He had that soft, turned-up earth inconspicuously ready for a burial. Do you think he intended to murder his wife once he read the letters she and Rolo had written each other? Or perhaps he thought of it even before that--what if he went looking for a wealthy bride with a discarded lover in her past?"

"You can ask him. That was the other thing the sherriff wanted me to tell you," Sam said reluctantly. "Mr. Stillwaters has been asking to see you, Frodo."

---

Since his arrest the evening before, Val Stillwaters had been kept in a room in the sherriff's office in Whitfurrows. It was a small but comfortable-looking room, Frodo thought as the shirriff on duty unlocked the door and showed him in, not like a prison at all. And Val did not look like a prisoner. He was freshly washed and his hair brushed. A carpet-bag containing some toiletries and clothing had been sent to him from Stillwater Hall, and he was in a clean shirt and waistcoat, this one of black velvet--elegant as always, but if he meant to wear it as mourning for his murdered wife, Frodo found it in questionable taste.

Val had been sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, but when Frodo came in, rose as if he meant to welcome his guest just as if he were in his own drawing room at home. "It's very good of you to come, Mr. Baggins."

"I was told that you wanted to talk to me," Frodo said reservedly as the shirriff shut the door, leaving them alone.

"I thought I'd like to make my farewells to you. I was too upset by the turn of events to say anything reasonable yesterday." Val had in fact been hysterical when the Chief Shirriff had taken him away. "I'm sorry we didn't meet before this, Mr. Baggins," he said as he returned to his seat, and invited Frodo to take the only other chair in the room. "I think that, under other circumstances, I might have enjoyed your company. You're a remarkably pretty young hobbit, and everyone says you're exceptionally bright--I've learned for myself how true that is. I suppose you think I'm unspeakably evil."

"No, actually, I don't." Frodo had seen unspeakable evil, felt its Eye upon him and felt its Darkness touch his own heart when he'd succumbed to the Ring's power; Val's crime, terrible as it was, was not even close to that dreadful blight upon the soul. Since Gandalf had once told him 'Nothing is evil in the beginning,' Frodo always made an effort to understand why people did the awful things they so often seemed to do. Without feeling any sympathy for Val, he could see how this had come about.

"I think you're very much like my cousin Milo," Frodo said. "You were both brought up by indulgent and affectionate mothers and spendthrift, gambling fathers, and you learnt to spend more money than you had. You're weak-willed, selfish, and unused to thinking of anyone but yourself. Milo was just the same until he married and had children, and got himself into debts so deep that he felt the full weight of responsibility to them and had to amend himself before they were all ruined. I think that, without his family, he might have ended up-Well, probably not in this same situation, but in irredeemable trouble. Your marriage might have saved you too."

Val did not argue with this assessment of his character, but the corner of his mouth twitched wryly at the last sentence. "Milo married Peony for love," he replied. "Whereas I married Camellia for her money, and she was in love with someone else. I don't believe I had the same chance for redemption."

"She might have helped you, even so. She mayn't have loved you, but she seemed to me to be a good-hearted girl--kind, unassuming, and easily swayed by the will of others. You could have persuaded her to give you whatever money you needed without resorting to murder for it."

Val looked at him with interest. "I didn't realize you knew her."

"I only met her once."

"You seem to know a lot about us, Mr. Baggins, but you're wrong there. It was when she saw how I needed money that Cammie began to be cool in her manner toward me. You can see why: her family had chased off that lad Rolo and pushed her to marry me because they thought he was the fortune hunter. They'd made a mistake."

"'A dreadful mistake,'" Frodo quoted Camellia's letter to Angelica, and wondered if this was what had been troubling Camellia and made her plan to leave.

"You've found out everything else. I'm surprised you didn't know that."

"There are one or two questions I haven't found answers to," Frodo admitted. "I'd be grateful if you'd tell me. Would you mind?"

Val shrugged. "What earthly harm can it do me now?"

"Very well then. Why did you have Betula take your wife's letters? How did you know about the letters in the first place?"

"I knew there was another boy when I married Camellia, but I hadn't heard his name nor anything else about him except that her aunt and uncle didn't think he was suitable," Val answered. "I didn't think much about it at the time, but after we'd married, I'd catch her sometimes reading those letters. She would hide them quickly away in her writing-box whenever she saw me. I began to wonder what could be in those letters of her. It drove me wild. I had to see them. I had to find out if she and this boy were still writing each other. Cammie was too much on her guard when I was about--I couldn't even get near that writing-box--so I... charmed her maid."

"Yes," said Frodo. "I imagine you can be quite charming when you wish to be." He had charmed Betula into theft, tried to charm Camellia into giving over her money, and had tried to charm him out of his suspicions as well. "How did you know it was Rolo when you hired him to dig up the flower beds for you?"

"I didn't know," Val responded, and chuckled. "You give me credit for more cunning than I possess. If I'd been as clever as that, and laid suspicion for Camellia's death on her lover, you can be sure he'd be sitting here now instead of me! No, Mr. Baggins. It wasn't in my head at all to place blame on him in the way you mean. I thought Rolo Bindbole miles away, and in no position to say that Cammie wasn't with him. I had no idea who the garden-boy was, until yesterday. But I couldn't have poor old Rakeweed do all that heavy work and turn up so much earth by himself. I caught sight of this young lad hanging about the place--I thought he must be the friend or relative of one of our servants, and asked him if he'd like to do a bit of work. It wasn't the first time Mother or I had hired someone to help in the garden, and I thought no one would think a thing of it."

"You wore his coat and hat."

"I borrowed the gardener's things from his shed. I needed something plain to wear, in case I was seen about the garden. And the hat hid my face quite well. Even Camellia didn't know me until we were face to face."

Frodo felt a shudder ripple down his spine. "Did she just happen to be in the orchard that night, or did you arrange that?"

"Oh, I arranged that," Val admitted. "I wrote her a note, in a hand as close to her lover's as I could make it. I said I--Rolo, I mean--was nearby and wanted to see her. I asked her to meet me in the orchard."

"No one's seen such a note," said Frodo, with some relief. Such a piece of evidence must surely have incriminated Rolo and confused the matter further.

"No," said Val. "She must have had it with her, in her skirt pocket or some such place. If they've found her, they'll no doubt find it soon enough. If anyone had found it before, it'd only have been taken as proof that she'd met with her lover that night and gone away with him. I thought it a very good plan. If Cammie didn't come to the orchard, she was safe. If she did come... well, she did, and here we are."

While he was grateful for these explanations, Frodo was disturbed by this frank and cool confession. After the hysterics and denials he'd witnessed last night, Val's calmness was chilling. He might be talking about the weather, or a game with his friends, or anything but how he had planned and committed a murder.

"As long as no one went after the errant couple, it might have worked quite well." Val lifted his eyes suddenly, meeting Frodo's with a hot, resentful glare--the first sign of strong emotion Frodo had seen since he'd come in. "If only Mother hadn't brought you into this!"

"I was already in it, Mr. Stillwaters," Frodo told him. "Your wife was my client. She engaged me to find her stolen letters weeks ago."

Val stared at him, then began to laugh. "I never had a hope then, did I? It was fated to disaster before I'd begun."

"You would've done better not to have started," said Frodo. "Camellia would still be alive."

"Yes, and so might I. They'll hang me, I suppose." The emotion was gone; the coolness had returned. "Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Baggins. Knock on the door to let the shirriff know you want to leave."

---

Late that afternoon, Mr. Horrocks, the Chief Shirriff, came to the inn in Budgeford and asked to speak to Frodo.

"I'm on my way to Stillwater Hall, Mr. Baggins," he explained when Frodo came into the entry hall, "but I thought as I'd stop by and tell you too, as you've been so much in this business from the first--it's been more your business'n ours, I'd say, 'til this last. Mr. Valerian's done away with himself."

In that first, stunned moment, all Frodo could say was, "Oh." He now understood Val's cool detachment, and what he'd meant by 'I'd like to make my farewells'. "How- What happened?"

"The lad on duty was bringing him his dinner, but couldn't get the door to open," Chief Horrocks reported. "When we did manage to push it in a bit, we found out why: Mr. Valerian'd hanged himself on a hook behind it, used his own neck-cloths by the look of it. We cut 'm down quick enough, but there was nothing to be done. He was long dead by then. Must've done it just after you was in to see him, Mr. Baggins. We never expected it of him, or we'd've kept a closer watch on him. He seemed like such a cheerful gent, not a care in the world even after he'd killed his wife."

"Yes, he would," said Frodo. "That was his way." He supposed that he ought to be glad that Val was dead and Camellia's murder avenged, but he didn't feel satisfied or vengeful or even sad. This brought his case neatly to an end, but it didn't make anything better. It didn't bring Camellia back.

"It's a mercy, if you ask me," Sam said. "At least, it's done now and over with quick."

"That's what I say myself," the Chief Shirriff agreed. "Spared poor Mrs. Stillwaters seeing her son brought up before a magistrate's court and, like as not, a public hanging, and it's saved us having to find a hangman to do the job official-like. But I can't go and tell her that when I bring her the news."

Camellia's funeral was held at Stillwater Hall the next day; it was attended by her mother-in-law, her uncle Turlo and aunt Rue, who had traveled from Overhill as quickly as possible, Asphodel Burrows and the Bolgers, Frodo and his companions, Rolo, and a small number of neighbors and acquaintances who had known Camellia well enough to mourn her. There were a few short speeches over the covered bier, for the funeral attendees all felt the circumstances to be very awkward. The most anyone could say was that Camellia had been a sweet and gentle girl, and it was all a great pity. Rolo, who might have said more, hung back from the rest of mourners and was silent.

Val would be placed in the Stillwaters family vault that evening, but that was to be a quiet funeral with none of the usual ceremonies.

After Camellia's bier had been carried into the vault and the door shut, the funeral-goers began to disperse. Asphodel took her nephew's arm. "Will you see me to my carriage, Frodo dear?" she requested. "This ordeal has been exhausting. Such a terrible tragedy, and the worst of it is that every one of us seems to feel that it's somehow our fault. We ought to have seen what was happening between Val and Camellia, and done something to prevent it."

"That's just what I feel, Auntie." Frodo thought of that timid, nervous girl who had sat in his parlor one day and asked for his help. "I wish I could have done more--seen what Val was really like, not let her come back here to him. Something."

"There are others, I imagine, who feel that even more strongly than you do..." Asphodel turned her gaze to the Bilburys, who were talking quietly with Rolo. The older couple seemed humble and apologetic; Frodo could only imagine the guilt they must feel at their part in Camellia's death. They had been wrong about Rolo and about Val, and they had lost their niece because of it.

"At least, Camellia's aunt and uncle have each other to turn to in their grief," Asphodel continued. "And that boy will most likely return to his own family for whatever comfort they can give him. Poor Verbena has no one to sustain her during this wretched time. She's the only one of the Stillwaters left to face the disgrace--I think she regrets summoning you. You can understand why, Frodo: If she hadn't asked you to find Camellia, her Val would still be alive."

"But Camellia wouldn't be," said Frodo. "She'd be lying buried in the garden, while everyone thought that she'd run away. That wouldn't have changed."

"You're quite right," Asphodel murmured. "I do hope Verbena will realize that. Right now, I'm afraid she may only see that her family has come to scandal and ruin. What can be worse for a respectable hobbit? I've asked her to stay with me for a time. She must see that her friends have not abandoned her." As they drew closer to Mrs. Stillwaters, who was standing before the closed vault door with her head down and eyes shut, Asphodel spoke to her. "Verbena dear, are you ready to leave?"

Mrs. Stillwaters opened her eyes. "Yes, Asphodel, I'm ready. I've left my bags in front of the Hall to be picked up. Everything's locked up. I've shut Stillwater Hall," she explained to Frodo. "I shall have to sell it, you know. There's so little money left, only Camellia's--and I wouldn't dream of touching a penny of it! The horror of it is that I wanted Val to find a wealthy wife to save us from this. I encouraged him to marry her. A mother's first wish is to look after her child's best interests, no matter what..."

"Do you know where you'll go?" asked Asphodel.

"I've been thinking of retiring to some other part of the Shire where they haven't heard of our tragedy. I may even take another name."

"I'm sorry for how this has turned out for you," Frodo said softly. "I know you must blame me."

Mrs. Stillwaters stared at him, then said, "Blame you, Mr. Baggins? No, I don't. I asked you to find Camellia, and you have. Only, you see, I didn't know."

When Asphodel placed a hand on her arm, Mrs. Stillwaters leaned on her friend, grateful to accept the support.

"What an unbearable thing it would be to have such knowledge constantly in one's mind," she said after a moment. "How could Val have borne it? No, he couldn't have. That must be why he took... the recourse that he finally sought. His remorse must have overwhelmed him at the end."

Frodo thought that Val had only felt remorse at being caught, and had hung himself rather than face further humiliations, but he did not say so to Val's mother. If it comforted the lady to believe that her son regretted what he'd done, he would not disillusion her.

He escorted the two elderly ladies to Asphodel's carriage, and saw them off. Before he joined his friends to return to the inn, Frodo stopped to speak to Rolo; his pony was tethered at the gate outside the burial grounds with his pack strapped on behind the saddle.

"You're going home to the Wood?" Frodo asked.

"Straight away," said Rolo. "There's no reason for me to stop here another minute. I should never've come out o' the Wood." He began to untie the pony's reins.

"Rolo, before you go, I'd like to apologize," Frodo told him. "I was very harsh with you that day when I questioned you, more harsh than I needed to be. I'm sorry I suspected you."

"You thought it was me who killed Cammie," Rolo said bluntly. "I'd be hard on anybody if I thought that of 'em. I'd've been harder on Cammie's husband if you'd let me get my hands on him."

"I also have something I'd like to give you." Frodo took Camellia's letters from his pocket and offered them to Rolo. "I think she would want you to have these."

Rolo took the packet and, as he looked at the handwriting on the topmost envelope, a letter addressed to him, tears glimmered in his eyes. He tucked the letters quickly away inside his waistcoat, close to his heart. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins," he said, and he blotted the corners of his eyes on his sleeve. "Since it's over now and you don't suspect me anymore, I can tell you: I did lie about one thing."

Frodo blinked in surprise. "About what?"

"Cammie did see me, once. She knew I was here. I didn't mean for her to, just as I said. I did my best to keep out of her sight, but one day, she came out into the garden where I was working. I looked up, and there she was, looking straight at me. I couldn't think to say aught but her name."

"And did she say anything to you?"

Rolo nodded. "She said, 'Rolo, please go away. You can do no good here.' I did go soon after, to follow that maid who took Cammie's letters, but I think she was right. I did her no good. I can't help wondering, Mr. Baggins--Did we bring it about? Me being here, us finding those letters for her, and sending 'em back? She would never've come to this end if it weren't for me!"

"I don't know," Frodo said thoughtfully. "It was her money Val was after. If Camellia had never loved you, he might've found another way to hide his crime. If it's any comfort to you, I think that those stolen letters worked against him--they brought me in to investigate when she disappeared, and gave us Betula's story. We obtained justice for Camellia. He didn't get away with it."

"I'm glad of that, Mr. Baggins, but it's precious little comfort."

"I know," said Frodo, "but it's all there is."

---

When they returned to the Inn, the remaining young hobbits prepared to go their separate ways. The last few days had been exhausting for Frodo; at Sam's insistence, he lay down on the bed in their room to rest before the journey home while Sam packed their bags. He could hear his cousins in their own rooms, opening and closing doors and dragging baggage into the hallway.

Merry appeared in the door to Frodo's room. "We're just about to leave," he announced, "but I wanted to say goodbye."

"You're going back to Tuckborough?" asked Frodo.

"No, not me. I'm going to Brandy Hall." Merry sat on the foot of the bed and gestured to Ilberic, who had come to Frodo's doorway after him. "I promised Ilbie I'd speak to Father on his and Stella's behalf."

"Great-Aunt Del was going to come too, but she has to stay here in Budgeford to look after Mrs. Stillwaters. She says she'll to write Uncle Saradoc instead," Ilbie added.

"Would you like me to come along, Ilb?" Frodo offered. "I don't know if Uncle Saradoc will listen to me, but I'll be happy to do whatever I can."

"Would you, Frodo? Thanks awfully!" Ilbie responded, and joined Merry and Frodo on the bed. "I didn't like to ask you when you were in the middle of your investigation and had more than enough to trouble you without considering my problems. I can see how wearying this business with the Stillwaters has been for you. Are you sure it won't put you out? If you'd rather go home, I won't mind."

"It's no trouble." Frodo assured him, and turned to Sam, who had finished the packing and was tossing their bags out into the hall. "You don't have to come with me, Sam. Rosie's waiting for you."

Sam frowned at him sternly. "You're not going anywhere without me, Frodo. You're not well yet. Who'll look after you if you have another bad turn? I'll write Rosie and explain we'll be another day or two. She'll understand."

"What about you, Pip?" Merry asked, who had Pippin joined them. "I know you want to go home."

"No, I'll come too," said Pippin. "I don't have to be back in Tuckborough for a few days. If you aren't coming there with me, Merry, I'd rather spend a little more time with you anywhere else while I can."

Merry smiled at him gratefully. "That's settled then! To Brandy Hall, we'll all go!"

They arrived at Brandy Hall in time for dinner. The Brandybucks were surprised, but delighted, to welcome their wayward boys home; there were numerous hugs and kisses from Hilda and Esmeralda, and countless questions from everyone, for they had heard news of the murder at Stillwater Hall and wanted to hear more. Bedrooms were made ready, and extra places were set at the dining-room table.

After dinner, Frodo and Merry went with Ilberic into Saradoc's study. The Master of the Hall heard Ilbie's news that he'd asked Estella to marry him, and she had accepted.

"We all hope you'll give your blessings to it, Father," said Merry. "It's a good match."

"Yes, it certainly is," Saradoc agreed. "Estella's a lovely girl. But it was a match I'd hoped you'd make. I can't say I like the idea of Ilberic encroaching on your prospective bride."

"Encroaching?" Merry echoed with a laugh. "Father, don't be absurd! Estella Bolger's not mine in any way. There's no promise between us--only an arrangement you tried to make and I wouldn't have any part of. She can marry whomever she likes, and if she wants Ilbie, why shouldn't she have him?"

"Ilbie's only thirty--far too young to be anyone's husband yet. In any case, neither he or Doderic should be wed before you are. I won't consider it until then. You won't have Estella? Very well. Plenty of other girls in the Shire, but mind you be quick about it before all the best ones of marriageable age are taken. Girls don't wait forever for husbands, you know."

"None of them need wait for me," Merry retorted. "I don't see why Ilbie should either."

"I think he's right, Uncle," Frodo tried tactfully. "Ilbie's happiness shouldn't depend on forcing Merry into something he doesn't want to do."

"I wouldn't want him to," Ilbie interjected.

"I've seen recently the misery a forced marriage can bring to everyone involved," Frodo continued.

Saradoc laughed, "Arranged matches aren't always so bad as that, Frodo-lad. They don't all end in murder like the Stillwaters."

Frodo's face reddened. "No, but they shouldn't be arranged when the parties aren't at all suited for each other, or when one of them is already in love with someone else."

"You're referring to Pippin Took," said Saradoc. "Merry is still entangled with that boy, isn't he?"

"You know I am," said Merry.

Father and son glared at each other, and Saradoc said, "Frodo, Ilberic, will you please leave us? I wish to speak to Merry alone."

The two young hobbits excused themselves and left the study. "It doesn't look as if it'll go well for me and Estella," Ilbie said once they'd shut the door behind them, "but it looks much worse for Merry."

Frodo went up to his room, the same one he had been given during his last visit to Brandy Hall. After this long, wearying day, he was ready to go to bed, but he wanted to wait up and find out from Merry what had happened between him and his father.

As he entered his room, he heard voices from the little dressing room that adjoined it; while putting away a few things in the chest of drawers, Sam was telling Pippin what it'd been like the first time he'd felt his unborn child move. Frodo reflected that Sam had never told him this story, rarely talked to him about the baby, but Pippin seemed enthralled.

"How wonderful that must've been," he said wistfully. "I think I'd like to be a father too someday. Merry doesn't understand-"

They stopped talking when they realized Frodo had come in.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked him. "What's happened?"

"Didn't Uncle Saradoc give Ilbie and 'Stella his blessing?" asked Pippin.

Frodo shook his head. "He wants them to wait until Merry gets married first, and now Merry's having another quarrel with his father."

Merry came in soon afterwards, flushed and angry.

"It's the worst row we've ever had," he reported. "We both said some awful things we probably shouldn't have, but Father's being ridiculously stubborn! He would be glad to see Ilbie betrothed to Estella if he didn't have the idea that I ought to marry her, or a girl like her. He won't approve until I give in--and I won't!" He began to pace the room; the others had seen Merry in tempers before, but never so upset as this. "Why should he make a mess of their lives just to get at me? It's not fair! And it isn't just Ilbie and Estella. Dodi's sweet on Isalda Took and they'll want to marry soon too. I won't stand in their way. I've had enough of this nonsense! The only thing for me to do is take myself off."

"Off where?" asked Pippin. "You're hardly ever home as it is."

"I'm going back to Gondor. I've been thinking about it for a long time. I said I'd do it often enough, and now I've made up my mind." He turned to Pippin. "You'll come with me, won't you?"

Pippin stared at him and saw that Merry did mean it; he really was going to go. He shook his head apologetically. "Merry, I... can't."

"Can't? Or won't? You'd rather stay here, give in, and do as your family wants?"

"That doesn't have anything to do with it. I don't want to leave the Shire."

Merry stared at him in return, but they were at an impasse. "Then I'll go without you," he said, and whirled to leave the room.

"Merry!" Pippin called after him, then looked desperately to Frodo as if he could do something.

"I'll talk to him," said Frodo, and went after Merry.

By the time Frodo caught up with him, Merry had gone to his own room, pulled open the pack he'd been traveling with, and pulled out half the contents--all the things he wouldn't need for his next journey. He was going through the wardrobe to find the clothes he'd stored away when he'd returned home from the quest and was tossing them onto the bed. He did not turn around as Frodo came in.

"Merry, don't be silly," Frodo pleaded. "Don't fly off in a rage like this. Your father will relent when he sees how strongly you feel."

"No, he won't. He hasn't yet. He won't until after I've gone. It's the only way I'll ever make him understand." Merry turned to stuff the clothes into his pack. "I wish Pip was coming too, but I can't make him if he doesn't want to. If he wants to stay in Tuckborough, let him." He fastened the pack-straps with two fierce jerks. "Let him marry and have babies like any other hobbit. Maybe that's best for him, and I'm doing what's right by leaving him to it."

"Pippin does love you, very much. He'd do nearly anything you asked."

"But not this," Merry replied. "I've asked too much of him. If he won't go, I can't stay for him. I haven't been happy here--you know that, Frodo." He laughed bitterly, but there were tears rolling down his cheeks. "I've hardly lived up to my name lately, have I? Helping you with these investigations has been an adventure, but I want to do something on my own. Perhaps I can, out there in the Big world." He slung the pack over his shoulder and took down his elven cloak from a peg on the back of the wardrobe, then turned to hug Frodo fiercely and give him a swift kiss on the cheek. "Look after Pippin, will you?"

After saying farewells to his family, Merry went to the stable and got his pony. In spite of all protests, he left that same night.

Sam and Frodo sat up with Pippin, who wept through the night. In the morning, he went home to Tuckborough and they returned to Bag End.