Mrs. Edda Scuttle was no blood relation to the Gamgees, but had once been married to Sam's mother's uncle. Since his mother had parted from her family when she married Ham Gamgee and went away to live in Hobbiton, Sam only became acquainted with this fractious old lady in the final years of her life, when the course of his investigations with Frodo brought them to the town of Gamwich. From their first meeting, Sam had been under the impression that Mrs. Scuttle didn't like him; she never troubled to conceal her opinion that her niece Bell had married beneath her by choosing a simple gardener for a husband.

It therefore came as a surprise when Mrs. Scuttle's man-of-business, Ramson Leekey, wrote Sam to inform him that the old lady was very ill and not expected to live much longer. She wanted him to come. "If you are not able to see her before she dies," Mr. Leekey had written, "she wishes you to know that you will be interested in her will."

How could he refuse? Even if he had no expectations of an inheritance, Sam felt it would be unkind to ignore the old lady's last request.

Gamwich was more than eighty miles from Hobbiton, a two-day journey. Even though Sam left Bag End the morning after receiving Mr. Leekey's letter and traveled without undue delay, he didn't arrived in time to see Mrs. Scuttle alive. He reached his great-aunt's house only to find it locked up with swaths of black cloth draped above the front door. It was now late afternoon and since there was no one around to answer his questions, Sam decided to go to the Mousehole Inn at the heart of Gamwich to take a room, order some dinner, and hear the local news.

Mr. Bloomer, the innkeeper at the Mousehole, remembered Sam well from his previous visits to the town and greeted him warmly. They were kinsmen now, since Sam's eldest brother had married the innkeeper's daughter Maisie. After expressing his sympathies, he informed Sam that Mrs. Scuttle had passed away the night before last, and that her funeral would be held the following day. "So you're just in time for that, Mr. Gamgee. And I'm sure your aunt'll be happy to know you've come."

"My aunt?" Sam repeated, not understanding. Surely she was past being happy about anything.

"That's right--she's been here the last couple o' days. Your brother Ham's been to see her, but nobody knew if you was going to come."

Mr. Bloomer surely couldn't be referring to the late Mrs. Scuttle. There was only one other woman Sam could rightfully call Aunt--his mother's sister, Lula Tredgold. "You mean, Aunt Lula? She's here at the Mousehole?"

"In her room, which'll be next to yours," Mr. Bloomer answered as he gave Sam the key. "She's been here a couple o' days now and's been taking the private dining-room, but I expect she won't mind sharing with you."

Aunt Lula didn't mind at all. When Sam knocked on the door a few minutes later, it was answered by a woman not far past eighty, with more gray in her fair hair and more lines on her round and cheerful face than there'd been when he'd last seen her. "Hullo, Auntie."

"Why, Sam!" she exclaimed as she embraced him, surprised and delighted to find him standing there. "So she sent for you too!"

For Lula was also an astonished recipient of the old lady's final bequests. "I hadn't seen Aunt Edda but the once since I was a girl and ran off to marry Fenrod," she told Sam over dinner. "I came back for my uncle's funeral, and she hardly spoke a word to me then, `cept to say she was surprised I dared show my face. An unforgiving woman, I would've said, but I suppose she meant to be reconciled, since she troubled to send for me when she knew she was near her end. I went to see her the night I arrived, but she wasn't awake. So I sat and held her hand 'til she breathed her last breath and started to grow cold. She never knew I was there, and I never heard what she wanted to say. But Mr. Leekey--have you met him yet, Sam-lad?" Sam shook his head. "Well, he was there, to see to shutting things up. He gave me the keys to her house."

"Did she leave it to you?" asked Sam.

"I expect so, though we won't hear what she put down in her will 'til tomorrow. Aunt Edda had no-one else. She'd no children of her own, and your poor mother's passed on. Maybe this was her way of making amends to me and Bell at the last. Well, I won't put myself forward and move myself in `til Mr. Leekey reads the will out after the funeral and we know what's what." Lula smiled at her nephew and asked after his own children and his sisters' families. She'd been very sorry to hear about the death of his wife.

"It's been more'n a year now," Sam replied. "Thing is, whenever I think I'm past the worst, something comes up to remind me of Rosie and I feel how I lost her all over again."

Lula took his hand. "I know, my dear," she said sympathetically. "It was just the same for me when Fenny passed on. At least we had no children to think of. Who's looking after your little ones now? Not Mr. Baggins?"

Sam almost laughed at the idea of Frodo minding a houseful of small children. "No, not by himself. He's got a cousin of his visiting--a widow-lady, Mrs. Melilot Took. She's got a little boy of her own." Melly Took had arrived at Bag End for an indefinite stay only a few days before Sam had departed for Gamwich; even though Melly had refused Frodo's proposal of marriage, Sam was somewhat anxious about leaving the two unchaperoned.

The vault where Mrs. Scuttle was to be placed the next morning hadn't belonged to the Scuttle family, nor to the Goodchilds; both of Edda Scuttle's husbands had come from places far from Gamwich. Her own now-extinct family, the Quinces, had once been prosperous in the neighborhood. It was in their family tomb not far up the lane from Mrs. Scuttle's home in the chalky downs that Mr. Goodchild and Mr. Scuttle had been placed in turn. Mrs. Scuttle was now about to join them.

Few mourners attended the service, only Mrs. Scuttle's neighbors, her servants, and some of the other local, prominent hobbits. Sam met Ramson Leekey for the first time on the doorstep of the Scuttle smial, when his great-aunt's man-of-business arrived with four sturdy youths who had been hired to bear the bier. Like Mr. Leekey, the foursome was dressed in black broadcloth, but this somber costume seemed more natural on him. Sam was surprised, however, to see that Leekey wasn't much older than he was, in his middle to late forties. The curls atop his head were combed fiercely down, then sprang out on the sides behind his ears. His nose seemed as pointed as his ears and he peered at Sam with near-sighted geniality when Lula introduced them. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. Gamgee," he declared, "even under such sad circumstances. Mrs. Scuttle spoke so often of you, as her nephew who showed some promise."

Sam didn't quite know what to make of this remark, and Mr. Leekey did not elaborate. The funeral procession was about to begin.

Mrs. Scuttle was carried from the parlor of her home to the tomb beyond the outskirts of the town, where many Gamwich families had placed their dead for generations. Sam walked immediately behind the bier with his aunt, his eldest brother Hamson and Ham's wife Maisie, who had come over from Tighfield. Uncle Andy hadn't come with them.

Lula made the first farewell speech over the covered body once it had been set down before the closed tomb door. She didn't speak of the reasons behind her long estrangement from her aunt, but fondly recalled the days of her youth when the Goodchilds had made a home for her and her sister after their parents had died. After so generous a speech, Sam felt he must do at least as much. Though he had not known his great-aunt well or for long, he spoke as well of her as he could and praised the beautiful gardens around her home.

After the last farewells had been made, Mr. Leekey unlocked the door to the tomb and pulled it open. Everyone present gasped aloud at the stench that came from within.

"It smells like somebody's dead in there," said Maisie.

"There must be lots o' dead folk in there," said Sam.

"But none so- well- fresh, Mr. Gamgee, if that's the word," one of the mourners pointed out. "The last hobbit to be laid to rest here was Mr. Scuttle, seven years past. Before that was Mr. Goodchild."

"That was more'n twenty years ago," said Lula. "It was the last time I set foot in Gamwich."

"They'd be naught but bones now, and wouldn't make such a smell," Leekey concluded.

Sam had to agree. Waving the bier-bearers aside, he went into the vault. Rows of shelves had been dug into the walls on either side of the door, three atop each other and receding into the darkness at the depths of the tomb. Skeletal bodies lay peacefully in most of these recesses, bones showing white through the remains of clothing and burial coverings. But on one shelf not far from the door lay a body that was not covered nor skeletal. By the clothing, it appeared to be female and, as Mr. Leekey had observed, was "fresh." Sam didn't think it could have been there for much more than a week.

"Mr. Gamgee?" Mr. Leekey was at the vault door.

"You're right," Sam told him. "There's somebody in here as oughtn't to be. It looks to be a woman. Can you come in and have a look? Tell me if you know who she is."

Handkerchief pressed tightly over his mouth, Leekey ventured into the vault until he stood at Sam's side and could see the woman's face. He gulped hard, and quickly shook his head.

Other hobbits were crowding close around the open door, eager to peek in and have a look as well. From their murmurs, Sam gathered that none of them recognized the woman, but he asked to be certain. No one came forward to identify the body.

"Send somebody to fetch Dondo Punbry," Sam said to Leekey as he tried to shepherd the funeral party back out into the fresh air. Dondo was the local shirriff; as Chief Shirriff for Bywater, Sam had some authority over him. "Then I want you to lock this door again and see that everything's left as is it." What better place to keep a dead body?

"What about Mrs. Scuttle?"

Sam appreciated the problem; they couldn't leave the old lady's body lying outdoors. "Well, the bearers can bring her in and put her on that bit o' shelf over there." He chose one on the opposite side of the vault from the unknown corpse. "But mind nobody goes near that other one." Frodo would want to see everything just as it was.

"It seems that poor Sam can't even attend his great-aunt's funeral without stumbling upon a dead body."

Melilot Took looked up from her second breakfast, eyes wide at this incredible statement from her cousin Frodo Baggins. They'd been seated together at the kitchen table when Mrs. Parmiggen, the cook and housekeeper, had answered the front door and announced that a special messenger had come from Gamwich. Frodo was now standing in the sitting-room with the messenger, holding the opened letter that had just been delivered.

"A body?" repeated Melly. "Not his aunt's?"

"No, another one. It was placed in the family vault by hobbits unknown. An unexpected corpse, if you like. 'A woman nobody says they know'," Frodo read aloud from Sam's letter. "He's asked me to come as soon as I can and have a look at it." Frodo turned to the messenger and told him, "I'll ride back with you as soon as I've packed a few things. Would you like to come along, Melly?"

"And help you investigate this mystery?"

"You've done so before."

"Yes, that's so. I expect that if I stay on and make my home here, I'll do so again. But not just now." She shook her head. "It's too soon for me to take an interest in another murder. I don't want to think about that kind of thing at all. Besides, someone's got to look after the children." The children--Sam's four and Melly's little boy--were currently running around the gardens, screaming and laughing. "I think Sam would be happier knowing that I was here with them. And it will give me a chance to make myself better acquainted with the neighbors." A small smile appeared on the corners of her mouth. "I suspect that they're a little afraid of me."

"That's because you're a Brandybuck lady as well as a Mrs. Took who has come to live among them," Frodo replied. "And that's why you wouldn't marry me, isn't it? Plain and ordinary Mrs. Baggins among so many Bagginses isn't at all intimidating."

"I hope I will never be plain and ordinary, Frodo." Melly's smile had broadened, but Mrs. Parmiggen looked scandalized and the messenger extremely interested in this playful badinage. Half the Shire had heard the strange but exciting story of how the famous detective had proposed to his recently widowed cousin even before her husband's funeral, and how the lady had surprisingly turned him down. More surprising to Hobbiton, she had then come to Bag End and seemed to be planning to stay on and look after Frodo's household in a sisterly way.

"I don't imagine you ever shall, my dear. Very well," Frodo accepted her refusal and folded Sam's letter. "I'll write you when I reach Gamwich." He asked Mrs. Parmiggen to give the messenger some breakfast while he went to pack.

When Frodo arrived at Gamwich two days later, he went immediately to the Mousehole Inn, expecting to find Sam there. No, Mr. Bloomer informed him, Mr. Gamgee and Mrs. Tredgold had gone to the old lady's house. Mr. Baggins would no doubt find them there.

Frodo left his pony stabled at the inn and walked up the lane toward the Scuttle house. He had been there before and knew the way well, although the path brought back certain memories of his last investigation in Gamwich. Here at the crossroad, he'd once been assaulted by a hobbit he'd suspected of murder. If he followed the same lane farther out of town, he would eventually reach a farm with an apple orchard, where the actual murderers still lived.

The black bunting still hung over the front door of Edda Scuttle's home, but a new sign in fresh black ink on paper had been pinned to the garden gate over the painted panel that bore the late owner's name: 'Mail for Lula Tredgold to be left here,' which told Frodo that Sam's aunt expected to be in residence for more than a few days.

When Lula herself answered the door a minute later and welcomed Frodo in, he asked her, "Do you mean to stay in Gamwich?"

"For awhile, at least," she answered as she led her guest in the direction of the parlor. "I mean to stay here `til I've gone through Aunt Edda's things, settle what needs settling, and see how I like it."

They arrived at the parlor. Though the windows were open, the room still held a pervasive scent of stale lavender; Frodo could almost see Mrs. Scuttle still sitting in her accustomed chair before the hearth, peering up at him with her sharp eyes, just as she'd done when she had previously received him in this room. Sam was seated at a small table beneath the window, going through some papers in a strongbox. As Frodo came in, he looked up, smiled broadly, and rose to give him a hug.

"I came as quickly as I could," Frodo told Sam once he'd regained his breath after being squeezed so hard. "Has anything happened that I ought to know about?"

"Nothing much since I wrote you," Sam reported. "I sent Dondo Pundry around to see if any old woman went missing last week, and some more people came to look at the body to see if they knew who she was, but nobody's put a name to her yet. If they know, they aren't saying. I've mostly been helping Aunt Lula go through old Mrs. Scuttle's things while I was waiting for you to come, Frodo, or else visiting Uncle Andy over in Tighfield so he doesn't think I forgot about him."

"Are you staying here now?" Frodo asked.

Sam shook his head. He'd kept his room at the inn in anticipation of Frodo's arrival. Besides, there was only one bedroom in Scuttle smial fit for sleeping in, and his aunt had taken that.

"I moved into Aunt Edda's room the day before yesterday," Lula added. "There's so much to be done and at my age, it gets to be tiring walkin' back and forth from the inn."

"It must seem strange to you, Mrs. Tredgold, being here in this house again after so many years away," said Frodo.

"Oh, I never lived here before, Mr. Baggins," Lula corrected this small misunderstanding. "This wasn't the house Bell and I came to after our parents died, you know. That belonged to our uncle. It's nearer to the heart o' town, and smaller 'n this. Mr. Scuttle must've been better off. Auntie left me that other smial too. She's been renting it out for all these years, and I expect I'll let the folk who live there keep it as long as they like. I used to know them from the old days, when they was first married. They have grandchildren now. I spoke a word to them at the funeral--and they were that surprised to see me back in Gamwich! A lot of the old folk hereabouts remember me from when we were all young lasses and lads, and say they never expected to set eyes on me again, let alone take up Auntie's house for my own."

"Who else did your aunt leave her things to?" asked Frodo.

"Sam, for one." Lula gestured to her nephew. "A nice bit of money, to be set aside for his children so they might be brought up to be ladies and gents."

"That's what she meant by me being promising," Sam said. "She also left a bit to Ham, though his 'n' Maisie's little uns won't grow up to be gentlefolk if they ever have any. And she left something to you, Frodo."

"To me?"

"I've been keeping it for you." Sam left the room to fetch Frodo's bequest.

"Is there anyone else?" Frodo asked Lula after Sam had gone. The question was not simple conversational curiosity. A wealthy old woman had died, and another, unknown woman had been placed in her family vault; while it might be coincidence, there might also be a connection. Had Mrs. Scuttle left something to the dead woman, an inheritance that someone else was eager to obtain?

"There was Mr. Leekey, who looked after her affairs," answered Lula. "It turns out he was some sort of nephew to Mr. Scuttle."

"You'll be meeting him soon as I send a note to tell 'm you're here," Sam said as he returned, bearing a small, flat wooden box in his hands; he gave this to Frodo.

Frodo opened the box to find that it contained a set of six buttons made of bright blue gemstones set in silverwork. "They're beautiful," he said, surprised and touched by this generous gesture by an old woman who had always seemed most uncharitable to those around her. "I really didn't expect anything from her at all. It was kind of her to remember me. But why?"

"They used to belong to her husband," Sam explained. "She said she was leaving them to you because you'd been a valuable friend to me and the color matched your eyes."

Frodo blushed. "She didn't put that in her will, did she?"

"She did," Lula said with a laugh. "You must've made more of an impression on Auntie'n you knew, Mr. Baggins."

"And they are the same color," Sam added. "You oughta have Mr. Threadnibble put `em on a waistcoat for you."

"Yes, I think I shall." Frodo shut the box. "She was a remarkable and peculiar old lady--I hope you won't mind me saying so." Lula and Sam had no objection to this characterization. "Were there any other odd bequests? Was someone mentioned who wasn't there to receive their legacy?"

"You mean, like this woman nobody says they know?" asked Sam, catching on to the point behind Frodo's interest in the details of Mrs. Scuttle's will. "Mr. Leekey's still got the will. I'll ask him to bring it along when he comes, and you can look it over. Then you can go have a look the body for yourself."

Mr. Leekey joined them just after tea-time, bringing the will, as Sam had requested. He seemed to consider himself at Lula's service now, for he bowed to her before Sam introduced him to Frodo. "If there's anything I can do to help you with Mrs. Scuttle's papers, Mrs. Tredgold, you've only to say. I know her business affairs better'n anyone."

"That's kind of you," Lula replied. "I might have a question for you in a bit, about some of the land Auntie's left to me, but I expect Mr. Baggins here wants to ask you some questions first."

Lula returned to the parlor to continue sorting through her aunt's things while the three other hobbits went into another room--what Frodo thought must be the late Mr. Scuttle's study. The room looked as if were infrequently used by his widow in the years since his death; it had been dusted some time in last week or two, but the books on the shelves and the ornaments around the room had an air of not being disturbed in a very long time. Only the strongboxes and the account book on the lowest shelf looked as if they'd been handled recently.

"Yes, that's right," Leekey confirmed when Frodo asked him. "Mrs. Scuttle managed her husband's affairs--both husbands, I ought to say--after their passing, but in later years it got to be too much for her. When I first come to town about five years ago, she kindly engaged me to see to her property, collect the rents, and keep her books."

"Then you're not from Gamwich?" Frodo asked him.

"No, sir. I was born and brought up in Cullodown Hills." This was a village approximately twenty miles to the south.

"Where Mr. Scuttle came from," Frodo guessed. "I understand you're some sort of relation of his."

"That's right, sir." Mr. Leekey nodded, but didn't elaborate on the precise degree of relationship. "Since I heard he was a hobbit of some standing, I came here to make his acquaintance and see if he needed somebody with a good head for sums to help him look after things. Well, it turns out that he was gone, but his widow was willing to take me on. I manage for some of the local farm-folk as well. A hobbit who knows his sums can always find work." Though he seemed a little nervous while conversing with the famous detective, he gave Frodo a courteous bow. "It's an honor to meet you at last, Mr. Baggins. I remember when you were here before, investigating that awful business when the lad who helped tend Mrs. Scuttle's garden was hanged, though I didn't have the chance to meet you then. But you may be sure she told me all about it! I hope I can be of some help to you this time around."

Frodo first asked about the will. After the funeral, Mr. Leekey and the principle mourners had returned to Mrs. Scuttle's home and he had read the important parts of her will aloud to them. There were some minor surprises, but no great ones. Mrs. Tregold had expected to be the chief beneficiary of her aunt's property in spite of their long estrangement. Mrs. Scuttle, Mr. Leekey added, had been very generous to him as well as to the servants still in her employ at the time of her death. A few small remembrances had been left to friends or acquaintances, similar to the gift she'd given Frodo, but there were no other relatives she'd left anything to. As far as Leekey was aware, she had no blood relatives of her own.

Frodo then turned to the subject of the vault. When could the body have been placed there?

"Tell Mr. Baggins what you told me," Sam prompted.

"Well, I unlocked the door one day not long before Mrs. Scuttle died," Leekey answered. "It was about a week before, when she was sure she hadn't long to live and wanted to see that things'd be arranged properly before she went to her rest. I hired a couple of work-lads to go inside to sweep up and clear away the cobwebs, and I made sure myself that there was a shelf ready for Mrs. Scuttle to be laid upon when the time came."

"And you saw no body at that time?" asked Frodo.

"No! It wasn't there when I opened the door and had my look in, and the lads would've said if they'd found it while they was sweeping up."

"How long was the door open?"

"`Til the next day. I didn't stay with the lads, Mr. Baggins, but left them to their work. I came back here to tell Mrs. Scuttle that things was being arranged just as she wanted, and she had me write letters to Mrs. Tredgold and Mr. Gamgee here, telling them to come. When I went back the next morning I didn't look about the vault, only peeked in at the door to see that the floor was swept, then locked it up again `til the morning of the funeral. I didn't expect to find anything amiss. You don't think if a vault's left unlocked, somebody's going to go in and play some mischief, let alone leave a dead body behind! But it must've been put in there that night."

Since Mr. Leekey had also brought the key to the vault with him, Frodo requested to see the unknown corpse next. The trio walked up the lane together and Leekey unlocked the vault door, but he demurred at accompanying Frodo inside.

"I don't think I could bear it, looking on her again, Mr. Baggins," he said apologetically. "Nor on poor Mrs. Scuttle neither. It don't seem right, disturbing them that's been laid to rest."

"I shan't disturb Mrs. Scuttle," Frodo promised him. "And I will do little to disarrange the other body. I assume that this is to be her final resting place as well?"

"That's right," Leekey confirmed. "Unless somebody turns up to claim her and wants her buried somewhere else. There's no other place for her to go, and nobody to mind at her lying here among a family that's died out."

Sam thought that his great-aunt might've objected to a stranger intruding into her family vault if she'd still been in a position to complain about it, but he didn't say so aloud. When Frodo drew out a handkerchief and placed it firmly over his mouth and nose before entering the vault, Sam did the same and followed him in. He'd brought a torch with him, and lit it so that Frodo could see the body more clearly. The smoke in the air also helped to diminish the smell within the tomb.

Frodo approached reluctantly. Although he'd examined dead bodies before, at least one in a worse state of decomposition, he still felt slightly sickened at this part of his work. But it must be done. The other bodies in the vault had been placed in the traditional funerary pose: flat upon their backs with their arms folded across their breasts. This one, however, lay on its side, the left arm curled against the breast with the hand nearly beneath the head, the other arm loosely across the waist with the right hand tucked beneath the body, legs slightly drawn up and knees bent--almost as if the woman had lain herself down to sleep in this unlikely bed. Her face was turned toward the open vault door. Her features were beginning to fall in; the closed eyes and cheeks were deep hollows even when Sam brought the torch as close as he dared. Frodo noted that the hair on the head was fair with a great deal of grey in it. It had been arranged into a bun, but must have been loosened around the time of her death, for many loose strands trailed over her neck and lay upon the flat surface beneath her head. The hand near her head lay palm upward and he could see that it was calloused; the three middle fingernails were broken short. She wore an old blue calico dress. Frodo gingerly took the hem between his fingertips to feel the weave of the cloth, then lifted it slightly to observe that the hem of her petticoat had a single line of lace and the legs of the pantalets were untrimmed. He knew something about women's undergarments; ladies who could afford such finery liked rows of lace or ruffles.

"I doubt that anyone would be able to recognize her by looking at her now," he said, "but we can produce a fairly adequate description to be sent about the Shire. Her hair is graying, so she was probably between sixty and eighty years old. By her clothing, I would say that she was a working woman and not a lady of means. Her dress is homespun. The style and worn look of it suggest to me that she worked on a farm rather than in a shop or in service. Her hands also tell me that she's done rough work."

Mr. Leekey, standing at the open door, clucked his tongue in amazement as he listened to these deductions.

"I can't yet say how she died," Frodo went on. "She doesn't appear to have been stabbed or strangled. There's no wound or blood I can see, and her throat is unmarked." He spoke this last part with some care, recalling all too vividly the last time Sam had seen a strangled woman.

But Sam received this information with equanimity. "I looked at her neck too," he said in a quiet voice. "I didn't see any marks, nor any blood. Was it poison, d'you think?"

"Possibly, though we've no way to tell. We can't even be sure that she was murdered, Sam. For all we know, she came to this place of her own will and died in her sleep. She might've been a wanderer who was heading toward Gamwich in search of work, and took shelter for the night. Only-"

"Only, why'd she do that?" Sam finished Frodo's sentence. "Who'd pick a tomb for a good night's rest?" He turned to Leekey. "There wasn't a bad storm here the night you left the door unlocked, was there?"

Leekey shook his head.

"She might've been hiding from someone," Frodo mused, "but that only leads us back to the notion that she was in danger." He'd kept his eyes chiefly upon the woman's face and upturned hand during this conversation. It was difficult to be sure in the dancing torchlight, but the skin around the lips appeared mottled and discolored. This could be part of the natural process of decomposition, but it might also be the remnants of a bruise. Those broken fingernails also troubled him. His own nails were habitually bitten to the quick, but he had noticed how easily other hobbits broke their nails in course of ordinary activities. A woman who did farmwork might expect to have her fingernails frequently broken short, and yet. . . "Sam, will you help me turn her? I want to see her other hand."

Sam summoned the services of Mr. Leekey to hold the torch while he helped Frodo to turn the body to lie on its back. The right hand was revealed. Two nails were broken, one torn partially away and still half-connected to the finger. This must have happened mere minutes before the woman's death, for she would otherwise have bitten or cut it off rather than leave it dangling to catch painfully. Something else also lay beneath the body: a wadded-up handkerchief.

Frodo picked this up to examine it more closely. It was a plain square of cambric with no initials sewn on it, and it looked as if it had been crushed tightly in someone's hand. He could see the impress of the fingers on one side. Had the woman done this herself? As he stepped closer to the open door for better light, he also observed that the cloth showed several miniature furrows across the surface of the fabric. One furrow was deep enough become a tear, and a tiny crescent-shaped object gleamed at the end of this torn place--a fingernail.

The handkerchief Frodo had been holding over his own face throughout his examination of the body suddenly felt oppressive. He had to step quickly outside the vault to take a deep breath.

"Here, Frodo, are you all right?" Sam hastened out of the burial vault after Frodo left it so abruptly. He went to his friend, who was standing a few feet beyond the door, head down with his hands on his knees, breathing in deeply.

"I'm fine," Frodo answered as Sam tentatively put a hand on his back. "It's just- She was smothered. Someone held this handkerchief over her mouth and nose." Frodo's own handkerchief had fallen to the ground, but he held out the one he'd found beneath the body for Sam to see. "She tried to pull it away and tore off several fingernails in the struggle, but ran out of air before she succeeded."

"So it's a murder," said Sam.

"Undoubtedly." Frodo stood up straight. He was breathing normally now. As his head cleared, ideas began to crowd in. "I don't think she was killed within the vault. What reason would she have to go in there while she was still alive? We haven't been able to think of a plausible one. She did fight, yet there's little sign of a disturbance in there. She was therefore placed upon that shelf after she was dead. Her murderer brought her body here. He must've known that the vault was unlocked, Sam, and he must also have known why."

He turned to Leekey, who hadn't wanted to be left alone inside the vault; the man-of-business stood at the open door staring at him and looked rather pale and ill himself.

"Who did know, Mr. Leekey?" Frodo asked. "Besides yourself, there were the two lads who swept up. What were their names?"

"Thistlespar," Leekey answered in a hoarse voice.

"Would they tell anyone about their work that day?"

"I don't see why they would, nor why they wouldn't." Leekey pulled himself together, and began to speak more normally. "They take odd jobs like it every day, and there was no particular reason to keep it secret."

"What about Mrs. Scuttle's maid?"

"Glory? She was there when Mrs. Scuttle told me to have the vault made ready for her and gave me the key. But you can't think a little lass like that killed a woman and carried her off here by herself, Mr. Baggins?"

"No." Frodo had to agree; the maidservant was a slight girl incapable of placing an adult hobbit's body on a shelf so high off the ground without assistance. If she'd had any part in this murder, she hadn't done the heavy work.

"A lot of people would've heard that Mrs. Scuttle was poorly and in her last days," Mr. Leekey added. "Or they might've seen me or the Thistlespar lads coming and going up this way and guessed what was afoot."

This possibility would have to be explored more thoroughly. Who might have seen the vault being opened that day? "Unless the murderer meant to come back and remove the woman's body before Mrs. Scuttle's funeral, he must've realized that it would be discovered--just as it was," Frodo continued his train of thought aloud. "Perhaps he was counting on no one being able to identify the woman to conceal his part in the crime. And that's quite true. We can't begin to guess why someone would wish her dead until we learn who she is and why she came to Gamwich."

They'd done all they could here. Frodo thanked Mr. Leekey and told him that he could lock the vault door. To spare the other hobbit a second visit to the Scuttle smial, Frodo also relieved Leekey of the key.

Before Sam and Frodo returned to the smial to have dinner with Aunt Lula, they had time to find and briefly question the two lads who had swept up the vault; the Thistlespars were brothers who lived in a bungalow down one of the cross lanes not far from the Scuttle home and, as Leekey had said, worked as day laborers on the local farms and performed other odd jobs. Both had occasionally worked in Mrs. Scuttle's garden. When asked, they admitted that they'd told their mother about that day's work after they'd come home, for she had once been Mrs. Scuttle's cook and took an interest in that lady. They'd spoken to no one else. Mrs. Thistlespar, who was present, added that she'd naturally spread the news about Mrs. Scuttle's expected demise the next day, but she was sure she hadn't said a thing about the vault.

Once they were back at the smial, Frodo also questioned the maid. Glory declared that she'd never spoken of the vault's being opened before her late mistress's death to anybody. The idea that she might be suspected brought tears to her eyes and, since he had no reason to doubt she was speaking the truth, Frodo didn't press her further.

"I don't think any of them had a thing to do with it, Sam," he confided as they headed back to the inn that evening. "Not the maid, the odd-jobs lads, nor their mother. I think we must look toward other possibilities."

"Like what?"

"Mr. Leekey made an interesting suggestion this afternoon. Someone might've seen him unlocking the vault door, or the Thistlespars going in or out. And that brings an even more interesting question to mind, dear Sam. When do you suppose the murder occurred--before or after?"

"You mean, before or after the door was left open?"

"Yes, exactly. Could the woman have already been killed and her murderer was desperately looking for a place to hide her away when he found out about the open vault and took advantage of it? Or did he discover that it was left open, make note of it as a good place to hide a body, then went ahead and killed the woman that night?"

Sam pondered this question for a moment. "It's funny either way," he said at last. "Having a dead body on your hands, then running into just the place to hide it--or else finding the place and having somebody nobody else knows that you want to kill."

Frodo laughed, delighted that Sam had grasped the implications. "It is a curious coincidence," he agreed. "Now I wonder who might've been in the vicinity-"

The sun had set before they'd left the Scuttle smial and dusk was deepening into night. Shadows lay long in the lane between its tall hedgerows, and neither Frodo nor Sam noticed the other couple coming in the opposite direction until they nearly ran into each other. Both pairs stopped abruptly a few feet apart and begged each others' pardon in a muddle of mumbling undertones before a male voice spoke up clearly.

"Why, it's Mr. Baggins, isn't it?"

Though there was little light to see by, Frodo recognized the voice as belonging to Silvanus Woodbine, the owner of a prosperous farm outside Gamwich. Silvanus's female companion must therefore be Pendira Applegrove; the two had been courting when he'd seen them last.

"It is Frodo Baggins," he acknowledged, then offered them cool courtesy and a rather stiff bow. "How do you do, Miss Applegrove, Mr. Woodbine."

"Not Applegrove any longer, Mr. Baggins," Pendira corrected him. "Silvanus and I were married soon after your last visit to our town."

"We thought you'd be coming to visit us again once this dead woman turned up," her husband added. "Dondo Punbry told me that Chief Gamgee was writing to you about it." He bowed his head briefly and politely to Sam, who returned the gesture.

"I see Shirriff Punbry still keeps you well-informed," replied Frodo. "I don't suppose either of you knows anything about the dead woman?"

"No," said Silvanus. "Why should we?"

Frodo might have answered, "People who've gotten away with one murder might feel confident enough to try another," but he refrained. He had no proof that they were involved. Beyond their previous actions, his one suspicion of them lay in the fact that the Applegrove farm, Pendira's family home, was up the same lane beyond the burial vault; he assumed that was where they were heading now. The southern end of the orchard bordered on the communal burial grounds; either of these two or Pendira's brother or sister might easily have observed that the vault was unlocked for that crucial night from their own property. It also seemed to Frodo that this murder was not a matter of happenstance, but had been well thought-out. Pendira was one of the cleverest women he knew, more than capable of planning a murder.

Pendira was certainly clever enough to understand his suspicion, for she said, "I admit you've got reasons to doubt our word, Mr. Baggins, but I promise it's nothing to do with us. We didn't know about it `til after old Mrs. Scuttle's funeral."

"And you know of no women of middle years who went missing about ten days ago?"

"No."

"Dondo asked us, but all the women we know are accounted for," Silvanus added. "She must be a stranger from somewhere beyond the town."

Frodo wasn't entirely certain that the couple was speaking the truth, but on this point, he had to agree. "All the same, it's very odd she should come here to die."

"What a strange way of putting it, Mr. Baggins!" said Pendira. "Whatever brought her here, it couldn't've been her own death. That must've come as surprise."

"Sam, did you read this?"

"Read what?" Sam looked up from his routine preparations for bed. Frodo had lit a candle and taken a seat near the fire soon after they'd entered their room at the Mousehole Inn; Sam had been aware that he was reading something, but until this moment hadn't observed what it was. "Is that Mrs. Scuttle's will? How'd you get hold of it?"

"Mr. Leekey left it in the study. I asked your aunt if I might borrow it. You haven't read it, Sam?"

"No, I didn't get to look at it," Sam answered. "That Leekey feller only read the parts that had to do with us--me 'n' Aunt Lula and the other folk that was at the funeral and came back to the house afterwards. Is there somebody else who came in for money he didn't mention?"

"No, Mr. Leekey told the truth when he said that there were no surprising bequests or hidden heirs. But he didn't tell you precisely how much Mrs. Scuttle left to him, did he?"

Sam shook his head. "Is it a lot?"

"Quite a lot," answered Frodo. "More than you and your brother Ham received together."

Sam whistled in surprise, then said, "Well, he's some sort of nephew to her last husband. That counts for something."

"Even so, it's a munificent bequest. By his own account, she only became acquainted with him a few years ago and made use of him as an agent rather than treated him as one of her family. I doubt she considers him her nephew in the way she considered Mrs. Tredgold her niece. She left him none of the property. That all went to Mrs. Tredgold. Whether or not your aunt Lula remains here in Gamwich, she is now a lady of some means."

"Property's so important?"

"Certainly." Frodo lowered the paper he was holding. "Money's nice to have, but you can only store it in a strongbox `til you spend it, and then it's gone," he explained. "Property can be used to create a steady income. You can rent out a smial you aren't living in, or a pasture or field for farming."

Sam's expression brightened. "So that's how come gentlefolk always have so much money when they never do a lick o' work?" he asked with a grin.

Frodo laughed. "Yes, that's precisely why! Someone like Uncle Paladin or Merry, who own a tenth part of the Shire, need never lift a finger and can still be rich beyond calculation. It's why I've made such effort to see you become a hobbit of property, dear Sam." He waved the will, which he still held in one hand. "Property or no, this bequest is a surprising act of generosity from a lady not known for her generous acts. I ought to ask Mr. Leekey if he can account for it. I have some other questions for him about the disposition of Mrs. Scuttle's possessions too."

"You got an idea?"

"Well... only a vague sort of notion," Frodo admitted. "I'll need to have my questions answered before it can grow into something more. Tomorrow."

"Are you ready to come to bed?" Sam had washed up and changed into his nightshirt during this conversation, but Frodo remained fully dressed.

"Not quite yet, my dear." Frodo set the will aside. "I want to write to Melly and it has to be done tonight if it's to be sent out in the first morning post. I'll send your hugs and kisses to the children too." He retrieved a quill, ink pot, and sheet of paper from the writing box he had brought with him and settled down at a small table on the other side of the bed.

"You do that," Sam said as he climbed into bed. "How's Mrs. Took getting on?" Melly had insisted that he call her by her first name and he did so to her face, but he continued to feel that it wasn't quite respectful to speak of her so familiarly to others. "I barely had time to say Hullo to her before I had to go off."

"She seems to be happy at Bag End, and the children are delighted to have her there. I hope she decides to stay on with us, but that will have to wait and be settled after you and I are home again." Frodo wrote of his safe arrival in Gamwich and a not very detailed account of the gruesome beginning of his investigation as he spoke.

"You 'n' her..." Sam ventured. He felt rather silly worrying about it, but it had been on his mind since he'd left the two at Bag End.

Frodo looked up from his writing. "Don't be ridiculous, Sam. If we intended to get up to any naughtiness of that sort together, we could've done it quite respectably as husband and wife. Melly had only to say Yes to my proposal. She won't, though."

"You sure she won't change her mind?"

"Quite sure. When she gave me her reasons for her refusal, I could see that they were very good ones." Frodo wrote one last line, then set down his quill, picked up the finished letter, and blew on it gently. When he was satisfied that the ink was dry, he folded it into a square and wrote the direction on one side--Mrs. Melilot Took, Bag End, Hobbiton--before turning it over to seal it with a blob of hot wax from the candle. "And, my love, her reasons are precisely why you shouldn't be troubled."

"What d'you mean?" asked Sam. He had known that Melly meant to turn down Frodo's proposal before she'd spoken to Frodo himself, but neither had told him what they'd said to each other on the subject.

Frodo was about to open the door, but he turned at the question and gazed into Sam's eyes with an expression that was more playful than solemn. "I mean that she didn't want another husband who didn't want to go to bed with her. One was quite enough. I think that's perfectly natural, don't you?"

Sam agreed.

"Well, then. I won't be long--I want to give this to Mr. Bloomer for the post-bag--but when I come back, please be out of that nightshirt, and I will be more than happy to get into bed with you." A hint of a smile flickered on Frodo's face to match the twinkle in his eye. "You do realize that this is the same room we were staying in when we first played those old games of ours? I tied your wrists to that headboard and bathed your feet, and then..."

"I remember." Sam was unlikely to forget it; his mouth went dry and his heart began to thump at the memory.

Frodo went out, shutting the door behind him. Sam scrambled out of bed, tossed aside his nightshirt, and opened the wardrobe to retrieve the waistcord from Frodo's dressing gown. He looped one end of the cord around his wrist and struggled to tie it with his free hand and his teeth, hoping that he would be able to get the knot fixed before Frodo came back.

The next morning, while Sam went back to the Scuttle smial to assist his aunt, Frodo sought out Mr. Leekey at his home, a cottage near the heart of the town. While he said that the reason for his visit was to return the will, the questions he wanted answers to were foremost on his mind.

"I must say, I was surprised by Mrs. Scuttle's generosity to you," Frodo began. "She must've been extremely impressed by your services."

"I hope that in the years I worked for her, I gave her no reason to complain of me," Leekey responded with prim modesty.

"But it goes beyond no complaint for a employer to leave so much to a man-of-business she's known for a comparatively short time," Frodo pressed further.

Ramson Leekey drew himself up rigidly. His face flushed red. "I don't know what you mean, Mr. Baggins. You- you seem to be implying something distasteful."

"No," said Frodo. "As a matter of fact, I don't know quite what I do mean. When I read the will last night, it struck me as odd, and it's my business to pry into things that look odd to me. It's sometimes a nasty job, I confess. If you know her reasons, I'd be very grateful if you'd tell me what they were," he appealed to Mr. Leekey, hoping to make him less defensive and more willing to answer honestly.

Leekey struggled with himself for some minutes, but in the end his desire for Frodo not to think ill of him won out over his reluctance to speak. "When I first came to Gamwich, I presented myself to Mrs. Scuttle and I told her the truth about who I am. It isn't what I told you yesterday, Mr. Baggins, nor what the folk hereabout believe. When I left my home, Mother sent me here to Gamwich to find my father."

"Your father?" Frodo repeated the words before he understood. "You mean, you were Mr. Scuttle's son? But I thought he didn't have any children."

Leekey shook his head. "He didn't, not official-like. Mother wasn't his first wife, you see. She worked at his house for a time before she married, and again after Mr. Ramholt Leekey, as was always like a father to me, passed on. They never married, since he was married already when they met and long since parted from each other when the first Mrs. Scuttle died. I didn't know the truth of it myself 'til a few years ago. I hope you won't go gossiping over this, Mr. Baggins."

Frodo assured him that he wouldn't.

"It wasn't what I meant to do when I come here. I wouldn't go about telling people who I was and bringing disgrace on all of us." Leekey's face was still red, and he was still struggling with some strong emotion. "I was looking for suitable work and Mother- Well, Mother thought I had some claim upon him, especially since he'd no other children. She hoped that my father might help to start me off in a trade, or else provide me with a job. I always had a good head for numbers and wrote a fair hand. Only, as it turned out, he was dead long before I got to Gamwich. I thought that I might come in for something of his money. Mrs. Scuttle saw the justice of that. It was all before she'd met him, so she didn't mind what he'd done. She gave me work I was happy to have and I had a bit to send home to Mother. Him who I grew up calling Dad hadn't left her with much and she had to work at odd jobs before I was old enough to help out. I hoped Mrs. Scuttle'd do more for me in time, seeing as how this house was my father's before it was hers, but she favored Mrs. Tredgold in that. Well, that was her right and I can't complain with how she's treated me."

Mr. Leekey spoke of discretion and unpresumptuous hopes for his full due from his true father, but Frodo couldn't help wondering if there was more to his story. Had he come here only seeking employment, or had Mrs. Leekey sent her son to Gamwich in hopes of blackmailing Mr. Scuttle or his widow in order to keep their secret? Mrs. Scuttle was a respectable woman and might be willing to pay to keep her late husband's reputation unsullied. But would she give Mr. Scuttle's son a job in a trusted position, and then leave him such an enormous bequest for the sake of his silence? Surely she might've bought him off for less. Whatever the mother and son had hoped, it seemed more likely that Mr. Leekey was at least telling the truth that Mrs. Scuttle recognized the justice of his claim.

Frodo spared the man-of-business further embarrassment by asking about his parentage, and went on to his second line of questioning, "May I ask--what would happen if Mrs. Tredgold refused her inheritance? Let's suppose that she didn't accept it as a form of apology from her aunt and didn't want anything that had belonged to her? Who would it go to?"

"She could pass it on to whoever she wanted," Leekey answered. "I expect it'd go to her nephews, and I hear there are some nieces in Hobbiton."

"And another niece and nephew elsewhere. But what if she refused to do even that much?" Frodo tried to make his question more clear. "What if she hadn't come to claim her inheritance, never appeared in Gamwich after her aunt's death, nor wrote in answer to your letters to make her wishes known? As if she had disappeared from the Shire." This was as close as he thought he could come to making his true point. "What would become of the property Mrs. Scuttle left her?"

Leekey appeared perplexed by such a strange question, but he gave it serious and careful thought before he answered, "I suppose I'd go on looking after it, waiting for her to show herself. I wouldn't know she wasn't coming, Mr. Baggins. I'd keep the house up, take in the rents, and keep her money in strongboxes."

"And if she never showed up? Who would it eventually go to?"

Leekey shook his head. "Mrs. Scuttle didn't say nothing in her will. You've read it all for yourself now, Mr. Baggins, so you know as much as I do. The proper thing to do then is take it to our magistrate and let them who have some claim make it and Mr. Applegrove'd divvy it up as he saw fit."

"Mr. Applegrove?" Frodo echoed. "The farmer who owns the orchard north of town?"

"That's right, Mr. Baggins. He's our magistrate since old Mr. Elmsworthy passed on."

Frodo had met the elderly Mr. Elmsworthy during his last visit to Gamwich, but hadn't heard that a new magistrate had been recently appointed. "And you say those 'who have some claim'--you mean yourself and the Gamgees?"

Mr. Leekey nodded. "Well, I'd only put myself forth for the house, as it was my father's, if I could do it without making a scandal. I've got no right to the money Mrs. Scuttle left for Mrs. Tredgold. Ham Gamgee and his brothers and sisters'd most likely come in for that."

---

"Was that what you wanted to know?" Sam wondered when Frodo repeated the second half of this conversation after they met for luncheon at the Scuttle smial. "Who Aunt Lula's money'd go to?"

"Yes. I was interested in what would happen if she didn't show up to claim her inheritance."

"I've got my own will already writ," Lula interjected. "I don't see any need to chance it over this. Except for some odds and ends that'll go to friends, it's all divided equal between my sisters' children. I've no other kin. Any magistrate'd see the justice o' that when it came to what Aunt Edda left me. But why d'you think I wouldn't show up in Gamwich, Mr. Baggins? Auntie and me had our quarrels, but I'm not so unforgiving that I'd stick my nose in the air and turn down boxes of money if she wanted me to have `em."

"D'you think Ham or me or one of my sisters'd knock Aunt Lula over the head for her money, Frodo?" Sam asked, joking.

"No, Sam," Frodo answered with a laugh. "I consider that most unlikely. But I wondered if there was someone else who might benefit from her disappearance." He turned to Lula. "Mrs. Tredgold, you said that people were surprised to see you return to Gamwich. Can you tell me specifically who?"

Lula was slow to understand the meaning behind Frodo's question. "Who was surprised to see me come back again? You mean, you think that poor woman who was killed was meant to be me?"

"It's an idea of mine, Mrs. Tredgold. It's possible that she was murdered in mistake for you," Frodo answered. "Until last week, it'd been years since anyone in Gamwich had seen you. I daresay that most people who remembered you would recall you as a fair-haired girl just of age. If someone was expecting you to return to Gamwich to claim your inheritance and meant to stop you before you arrived, they would only know to watch for someone like that girl, but fifty years older. The dead woman fits your general description. So near as we can tell, she is about your age and she has fair hair of a shade similar to yours with some gray in it."

Lula only grew more horrified as she listened to this explanation. "But why would anybody want to kill me?" she asked.

"I don't know," Frodo admitted. "I thought it might be so that they could claim your inheritance, but your nieces and nephews are your only heirs. We can probably exclude them from suspicion--none of them except Ham were anywhere near Gamwich while you were on your journey here." Sam threw a sharp, worried glance in Frodo's direction at the mention of his eldest brother's name. "The only other person who seems to have an interest in your inheritance is Mr. Leekey."

"Mr. Leekey?" Lula repeated. "What's it got to do with him?"

"He had hopes of receiving this house from your aunt," Frodo told her, without going into the reasons for Leekey's expectations. "He might still hope to inhabit it if you never came to Gamwich. He said as much to me when I asked him. And he is the one person who definitely knew that you would return at your aunt's death, since he wrote you to come. Did you write in reply to let him know when you expected to arrive?"

"No," Lula shook her head. "When I got his letter, I started off as soon as I could pack a bag and shut up the house. The post wouldn't've got to him any quicker. But, Mr. Baggins, he wasn't surprised to see me. If he killed this other poor woman in mistake for me, he'd've been blasted like he was hit by a bolt o' lightning from the blue when I showed up here on the doorstep. He answered the door, since Glory was sitting by my aunt's bed tending to her."

"He didn't appear at all shocked or surprised?" asked Frodo.

"Not a bit of it, Mr. Baggins. The minute he saw me, he smiled and said, 'You must be Mrs. Tredgold. I was hoping you'd come before it was too late.' He meant because Aunt Edda was about to breathe her last. Then he told me who he was and took me into Auntie's room. He didn't even blink at the sight of me."

This confounded Frodo's one viable suspicion. Leekey seemed like a nervous and sensitive hobbit; he might be capable of committing a murder, but Frodo doubted he had the composure to welcome the supposedly murdered woman when she showed up alive and well after all. A fainting fit or bout of guilt-ridden hysterics was more in character. "Who was surprised then?" he asked, returning to his original question.

Lula turned to Sam. "Meaning no disrespect to him, Sam-lad, but is your gent-friend always so morbid, asking people who'd want to murder `em?"

"I'm `fraid so, Auntie," Sam answered. "He's hardly got started yet. Wait `til he starts on suspecting your nearest 'n' dearest."

"I know it's rather a grotesque thing to have to consider, Mrs. Tredgold," Frodo admitted, "but I am investigating a murder."

"That poor woman," Lula murmured.

"Yes, and this morbid line of question may help me to understand why she was killed and who did it. I hope you don't mind answering as best you can, for her sake."

"No, I don't mind," said Lula, thought the idea that the unknown woman had been killed in her place by mistake was obviously still disturbing to her, "not if it's to catch a murderer."

"You mentioned the folks that was renting the old Goodchild place," Sam prompted his aunt.

"That's right, the Peasleys," said Lula. "But they'd naught to gain from my dying. They'd stay on in their house no matter what happened to me, unless you or your brother tossed `em out."

"Who else?" asked Frodo. "Who else did you see since when you first returned to Gamwich?"

"Some of my old girl-friends. Mulda Deedle--that's Mrs. Bloomer at the Mousehole now. She saw me soon as I came to take a room there. Una Digby--she's married to one o' the Gamgees on a farm outside town. She was here shopping on the market day and we met in the square. And Nonnie Winterwell in town that day too. She married another farmer, the one who has that big orchard up the way."

At the mention of the orchard, Frodo was alert. "The Applegroves?"

"That's them. It was Old Applegrove who had the orchard when I was a girl--he's passed on long ago, but he'd be the grandfather to Nonnie's children, the family up there now. And the son Nonnie's married to must be the same young lad who was sweet on Bell when we first came to town. Sandy Applegrove. That was before Bell met Hamfast Gamgee at a dance- Oh! That must be who that feller was I saw at the funeral. Young Sandy, grown into an old hobbit. I wondered, but we didn't get a chance to talk before the vault was opened up."

After lunch, Aunt Lula, being unused to having a maidservant, helped Glory to clear the table and wash up the dishes. Sam offered to give a hand as well, but his aunt shooed him out of the kitchen. "You go and talk to your gent-friend, Sam-lad. I'm sure he's got lots more to say about who'd want to murder me, only I wouldn't let him while we were eating."

Sam went out through the front door--the direction Frodo had gone in--and found his friend in the front garden. Frodo was seated on a wooden bench, a smoking pipe dangling from his fingers, eyes on some distant point over the downs. Sam was sure that his thoughts must be miles away, but Frodo turned to glance up at him and smiled.

"Thinking about what to do next?" asked Sam.

"As a matter of fact, I am. I didn't mean to distress your aunt, my dear, but if I'm right, she may yet be in some danger. The murderer of that other woman will have surely realized his mistake by now, and might try again."

Their eyes met for a moment and Sam nodded grimly, understanding that protecting his aunt would be his primary duty today. "But who'd do such a thing?" he wondered as he sat down beside Frodo. "I can't see anybody wanting Aunt Lula dead, unless they thought they'd get something by doing it." After a moment, he ventured, "You aren't thinking it's Ham, are you? We're the only ones in her will, her nephews 'n' nieces, and Ham's the only one of us that lives near enough to Gamwich."

"I have considered him for just that reason," Frodo admitted, "but I must have more than that before I seriously begin to suspect him, and you need to worry for his sake. Did Ham know that your aunt would leave him one sixth of all she owns? Could he guess that her aunt was going to leave her a sizeable inheritance, and make his own inheritance an enticing prospect?"

"I suppose Maisie might've picked up some news about Mrs. Scuttle's dying when she visited her family in town and brought it home to 'm," Sam answered grudgingly. "But even if she somehow got to hear that that Mr. Leekey wrote to Aunt Lula, they couldn't guess Mrs. Scuttle was going to leave so much to her. None of us expected to get a penny from Mrs. Scuttle. And if Aunt Lula didn't know, why should Ham? Nor'd he know if Aunt Lula was going to leave him anything, no matter how much or how little she had to leave. He hardly knows her, not like me and May and Marigold do. So he'd no reason to kill her over the hopes of getting a lot of money, Frodo, even if he was the sort who'd do a thing like that to his auntie--which he isn't! He's a decent hobbit and never bears no one a grudge. Now, if anybody bears Aunt Lula a grudge, it's Uncle Andy."

Frodo was drawing in on his pipe at this moment, but his eyes went wide. Sam realized with dismay that, in his efforts to defend his brother, he had inadvertently implicated his uncle.

"I didn't mean that exactly," Sam hastened to explain. "Well, you know how he wanted to marry her all those years ago when my mum and the Gaffer ran off together and he thought that one brother might do the same as the other. He still grumbles whenever I say anything about Aunt Lula, but he wouldn't go as far as murder! Besides, he never comes into town anymore and doesn't listen to gossip. He wouldn't know Aunt Lula was coming back to Gamwich, nor anything about that tomb being left open. Neither would Ham."

"I know, Sam," said Frodo, and Sam realized that he'd already gone through this same line of thought and come to the same conclusions. "You've no thoughts on our other prospects?"

"Nobody Aunt Lula mentioned sounded like somebody that'd mean her harm, all her old girl-friends, but it seems like they're mostly my relatives too. Aunt Una--she's the mother of those cousins of mine you met when we were last here--and Mrs. Bloomer's kin now that she's Ham's mother-in-law. Whyn't you go and pick on that Mrs. Applegrove? I only met her the one time and she's nobody I'm related to."

Frodo laughed. "Actually, I have been thinking of calling on the Applegroves this afternoon."

"You don't really think it's her?"

"No, not Mrs. Applegrove, but that family does keep turning up in this investigation no matter which way I look."

"It's not a very big town," said Sam. "You can't help seeing the same folk turn up again and again. You're not thinking of them just because of those two we met last night, and Miss Pendira's brother and sister?"

"Well, that is a part of it," Frodo admitted. "But there's more too. It's the orchard's proximity to the vault. It's the fact that Sandro Applegrove is the magistrate who would see to the disposition of Mrs. Scuttle's will if her niece never appeared to claim her inheritance, and that he was once sweet on your mother, her other niece, when they were young hobbits."

"So what's it all mean?"

"I don't know, Sam. It may mean nothing. As you say, Gamwich is a small town and the Applegroves are a rather prominent family in it. But I can't help wondering. Do all these odd fragments fit together to explain that woman's death? They almost seem as if they do, but certain important pieces are still missing. The Applegroves can't hope to receive any part of Mrs. Scuttle's property or money, no matter how it's divided. They weren't mentioned in her will and they aren't any kind of relation. Would Mr. Applegrove agree to take part in the murder of your aunt Lula to oversee Mrs. Scuttle's will? Surely he wouldn't do it just to defraud Bell Goodchild's children because she married someone else more than fifty years ago? That seems excessive."

"Maybe they're in it with someone else?" Sam suggested.

Frodo puffed on his pipe while he considered this idea. "The only other person who might hope to gain by your aunt's disappearance is Mr. Leekey. Perhaps he offered to pay the Applegroves generously for their help if Mr. Applegrove divided Mrs. Scuttle's property in his favor. How much would he have to pay for them to condone murder? Unless Mr. Applegrove is an utter fool, he'd have to realize that it was murder if Leekey made such an offer before Mrs. Tredgold failed to appear, or even before Mrs. Scuttle was dead. Or perhaps there's a closer connection between them that we aren't yet aware of? Leekey isn't related to the Applegroves so far as we know, but they do have a younger daughter, Petula. Maybe he hopes to marry her once he's a hobbit with some wealth." He stood up abruptly and handed his pipe to Sam. "I think I'll go and visit the Applegroves now, Sam. I've too many unanswered questions about them, and I can't go further until I know what they might have to gain in this."

Sam didn't offer to accompany him. He would stay here, near his aunt, until he was certain that she was safe.

Mr. and Mrs. Applegrove were cautious as they welcomed Mr. Baggins into their home; they were very much aware of what had brought him back to Gamwich, and both recalled that the last time he'd visited their farm, he had made their daughter cry by asking her questions. "We want to help over this awful business with that woman, Mr. Baggins, but I hope you an't going to be asking us upsetting questions this time," said Mrs. Applegrove.

"I hope I don't have to," Frodo replied politely. "I'm very sorry that I upset Miss Petula when I was last here. She hasn't held it against me all these years? If she has, then I would be more than happy to apologize to her if I'm given the opportunity."

At these words, the Applegroves began to relax. "Now, that's very kind of you, Mr. Baggins," said Mr. Applegrove. "I'm sure Pet would be glad to hear you say so--only, she isn't here."

"Not here?"

"No. She doesn't live with us any more."

"I don't suppose you've heard," added his wife. "Our Pet's married to a fine lad over in Nobottle. Her home's there now. She writes us now and again, she hasn't been back since she went away. That was last summer. She wasn't very happy here after all that trouble over that Glossum lad. I don't like to say so, seeing as how he was such a bad lot, but she took it hard, the terrible way he was killed."

The innocent and confiding tone of Mrs. Applegrove's speech told Frodo that she was still ignorant of the part her children had played in the murder of Malbo Glossum--although Petula, whom Frodo had believed to be the least involved, appeared to be the only one who felt any remorse about it. That Mr. Applegrove nodded in agreement and didn't try to stop his wife from speaking so unguardedly indicated that he was equally unaware of the truth. Now that they were assured that he hadn't come to disturb them with unpleasant, prying questions, they were no longer suspicious or wary of him. Frodo was dismayed. He suddenly felt certain that these two hobbits had nothing to hide.

"I'm sorry to have missed seeing her," he said. "I had the pleasure of meeting your elder daughter and her husband last night in the lane near old Mrs. Scuttle's place. You may have heard that her niece is staying there now."

Yes, the Applegroves had heard this news. With very little encouragement, they both spoke fondly of Lula Goodchild, as they'd known her when they were all young hobbits together. Yes, they acknowledged in answer to Frodo's question, they'd seen her when they'd attended Mrs. Scuttle's funeral. "But we didn't get a chance to speak," said Mrs. Applegrove. "I was hoping to afterwards when we went back to the old lady's house for refreshments, only we never got the chance. Once that other dead woman turned up the way she did, it spoiled everything. There was no thought of refreshments and we only wanted to go home. I expect I'll go over there in a day or two, once poor Lula's got her auntie's matters settled. I don't suppose you know if she's planning to stay on in Gamwich, do you, Mr. Baggins?"

After a few more minutes of seemingly innocuous chat, Frodo bid them good day and left the Applegrove farm in disappointment.

"There's nothing in it, Sam," he reported when he met his friend at the gate of the Scuttle smial; Sam had been keeping watch for his return. "Unless the Applegroves are the coolest pair of criminals I've ever met, they're simply prosperous, middle-aged farm-folk with no guilty knowledge of any kind. They know nothing of murder and aren't planning any sort of trickery. They both speak well of your aunt and mother. Mr. Applegrove didn't realize you were Bell Goodchild's son, by the way. He was delighted when I told him. I saw no sign that he bears any kind of a grudge toward your family or wishes them harm."

"What about that Leekey feller?" asked Sam.

"He does manage the orchard bookkeeping, but Mr. Applegrove doesn't seem to regard him as more than a useful man-of-business. Mr. Applegrove admits he has no good head for mathematics himself. There was never anything between Ramson Leekey and Petula." Frodo leaned upon the gate with both hands gripping the top rail and sighed. "She doesn't even live here anymore."

"So you were wrong about `em."

"Wrong," Frodo agreed. "Wrong from first to last. If someone did murder that woman in mistake for your aunt Lula, they had no part in it. Maybe I was wrong about that as well." Sam reached over the gate between them to pat him consolingly on the shoulder, and Frodo let his forehead rest upon his friend's breastbone. "We'll have to start over again at the beginning, Sam," he said without lifting his head. "We've still no idea who that woman is or how she came to be in Gamwich. How she 'came here to die,' but never expected to be murdered. The only thing we can look into is who might've known that that vault door was unlocked at the opportune time."

At that moment, he realized that it didn't matter. He'd wondered from the first about the coincidence of the vault's being left unlocked just when someone had needed a place to hide the body of the unknown woman, but he hadn't given that peculiar circumstance the attention it deserved. He'd let himself be distracted by the appearance of Silvanus and Pendira Woodbine and his suspicions of them and their family. Now, he saw that the murder didn't need to have occurred on that one night. It hadn't been. There was one person who could've unlocked the door to place the body inside the vault any time he liked after the cleaners had been there. They had very probably finished their task and returned the keys before the unfortunate woman had even come to Gamwich to be murdered.

"That's it! Sam, I've been a fool," Frodo cried out and lifted his head to kiss his startled friend. "She isn't a missing woman, but one who people believe is alive and well elsewhere. My dear, are you willing to take a little journey? I want you to ride to Cullodown Hills."

Sam was bewildered by this abrupt change in Frodo's demeanor, but he was always willing to undertake whatever errands Frodo required. "It's safe to go and leave Aunt Lula?" he asked.

"Perfectly safe, dear Sam," Frodo assured him. "She's never been in any danger at all. I'm sorry that I ever made her believe she was, and I'll go and apologize as soon as I see you off."

Sam rode south that same afternoon with Frodo's instructions on what questions to ask. He was away all the next day. In the meantime, Frodo spent the day with Lula, taking her nephew's place by helping her go through Mrs. Scuttle's effects. He was there when the Applegroves paid their condolence call; if he'd had any lingering doubts about their harmlessness, their friendly demeanor over tea reassured him. He also accompanied Lula to the Peasleys to talk about continuing their lease on the cottage her uncle had once owned. Mr. Leekey came by to offer his services. He noticed that Mr. Gamgee had left town, but Frodo didn't tell him where he'd gone.

Sam returned late the following afternoon. "It was just as you thought, Frodo," he announced once they met at the inn. "According to the postmistress, Mrs. Leekey had a letter from her son about a month ago. The neighbors say he wrote her that he expected to be coming in for a lot o' money soon and he'd be sending her enough to keep her comfortable for the rest of her life. He always sent her part of what he earned, but the way Mrs. Leekey talked about it, they reckoned this money was special. She wrote back to him saying that she was coming up to Gamwich to see him. She didn't tell nobody why she was going, but they thought she had something particular to say to him that couldn't be put in a letter. Well, she went off about two weeks ago and the neighbors think she's been here in Gamwich with her son since."

"But she's not staying with him," said Frodo. "No one else was at his home when I called, and he speaks of her as if she were still in Cullodown Hills. No one at her old home has any reason to think she's missing. Even if they heard the description of the dead woman we've been sending around through the shirriffs, they wouldn't think it was her. She does fit the description, Sam?"

Sam nodded. "Near eighty, fair-headed but turning grey. Them who remember say she had a blue dress like the one our dead woman's wearing. You were wrong about her working on a farm, though. Her son sent her money, but she worked at whatever took her fancy, sewing 'n' such, to bring in some more. She and her husband kept a shop, so the folk that remember that far back said, then she went back into service after he died. She was housekeeper for Mr. Scuttle and his first missus when her son was a little lad. She'd been a maidservant in their house before she got married."

This was precisely what Leekey himself had said. "When did her husband die?" asked Frodo.

"At least five-and-thirty years past, they say. This feller Leekey must've been about seven."

"Did you ask--was there any gossip about Mrs. Leekey's relationship with Mr. Scuttle before or after her marriage?"

"None that I heard, but that would've been a long time ago. The younger folk hardly remember the Scuttles at all."

"Yes, that's so. Any rumors would've been long forgotten by now. And yet... Shall we call on Mr. Leekey, Sam, and ask if he knows what's become of his mother?"

As Frodo had suspected, Mr. Leekey was a nervous sort of hobbit and didn't stand up well when faced with questions he couldn't answer. He began to fidget when Frodo asked if he knew where his mother was; when confronted with the fact that Sam had been to Cullodown Hills and learned that his mother had last been seen on her way to Gamwich, he burst out hysterically.

"I didn't mean to harm her! But Mother was carrying on so. I was afraid somebody might hear. I put my hanky over her mouth to try and quiet her, like, but then she started to fight. Before I knew how it happened, it was over and done with. I didn't mean it, Mr. Baggins! How'd she get into Mrs. Scuttle's vault? Well, I'd just got the keys back from the Thistlespars after they'd swept up. That was right before Mother came, and it put the idea into my head. After it was dark and the neighbors was asleep, I put her in the cart and took her up. Nobody saw. Why shouldn't she lie there as well as anywhere else?"

After this confession, Leekey collapsed into sobs. While Frodo sat with him, Sam went to fetch Dondo Punbry to have Leekey officially placed under arrest.

"But why'd he kill her, Frodo?" Sam asked after he and Dondo returned and Leekey had been taken away. "It wasn't over the money. He didn't mind sharing with her as long as she was off home. He wouldn't've written to her about it otherwise. Was he afraid once she was here, she'd go about saying why Mrs. Scuttle left him so much money?"

"No, Sam. He was afraid that she'd say something worse than that. I think that he must've told her why Mrs. Scuttle was being so generous to him, and she objected. That's what she was carrying on about when he put a stop to it. Remember, Mrs. Scuttle was still alive when Leekey's mother arrived in Gamwich and was still in her right senses. She might've changed her will even at the last minute. You knew her, Sam. You can guess how she would've responded if she'd learned how she'd been deceived."

Sam could imagine it; his great-aunt would sit up and fight those who'd wronged her until she'd let out her last breath. "But how'd he deceive her?"

"He told me the tale himself. It seemed suspicious to me even then--I thought that the Leekeys were after some payment to keep silent, but that wasn't it at all. That wasn't how he meant to get money. When he first came to Gamwich, Leekey presented himself to Mrs. Scuttle in hopes of gaining employment and advancing himself. Finding Mr. Scuttle dead, he felt free to tell her that her late husband had been his father. It probably seemed like a clever idea at the time, and it was successful. Mrs. Scuttle not only gave him work, which she might've done in any case, but she provided for him in the belief that she was aiding her husband's child. But it wasn't true, and Leekey's mother was the one person living who could say so. She could say that her son was not Mr. Scuttle's. As an honest and respectable woman, she would almost certainly have done so if given the chance. He couldn't let her speak."