Merry turned to glance in the direction of the doorway, and took in Sam with a mildly curious and insolent sweep that held no recognition. "It looks like you've been too loud, lads," he said. "The sherriff's come to toss you all out into the streets, and the sun's not even set!"
The group at the game of dice looked up. "He's not our sherriff," said Tully. "That's Mr. Samwise Gamgee, as is High Sherriff over in Bywater."
"Bywater?" said Merry. "That's a long way away."
"What's he doing here?" asked Pippin, on the floor among the gamers.
"He's looking into that hanging we were telling you about," Tully explained. "Him and the famous detective, Mr. Frodo Baggins."
"Frodo Baggins?" echoed Pippin. "Yes, we've heard of him."
"But I don't think we've heard of you," Merry said to Sam. "Sherriff... Gamgee, was it?" Pippin laughed.
Sam was baffled by this game of pretending not to know him, and irked at their laughter. "It is," he replied huffily. "And who might you be?"
Merry grinned. "Rorimas Marshbottom, at your service," he said with a bow, "and this is my friend, Mr. Faramir Greenhills."
"Delighted to make your acquaintance," said Pippin. Since he was kneeling, he couldn't make a bow, but he bent his head down until his forelocks swept the floor.
"Join us for an ale, Mr. Gamgee?" Merry offered.
"No, thank you," Sam replied and stepped back from the doorway to go and find Frodo--when he found that Frodo was standing in the entry hall behind him.
"Ah, you're back, Sam. I was just resting and having tea in our room..." Frodo stopped there, for he had seen Merry standing at the bar, smiling at him.
"Mr. Baggins, the famous detective, I presume?"
"At your service, sir," Frodo said, giving his cousin a courteous and impersonal bow.
Introductions were made again by "Mr. Marshbottom," and Merry invited Frodo to have an ale with him. Frodo said he would be happy to accept and, to Sam's further confusion, they drank their ales together and exchanged the sort of polite pleasantries that two strangers might when meeting on their travels.
"We're on our way to the western bounds, and perhaps beyond," Merry told Frodo, "but we thought we'd stop for a night or two in this friendly little town. It looked so peaceful. Who could guess there was so much excitement going on! We were astonished---Isn't that so, Faramir?" Pippin didn't response to his pseudonym. "Faramir!" Merry raised his voice, and Pippin looked up from the game, blinking. "Weren't we astonished to hear all this business about a murder?"
"Oh, yes- ah- Rory. Yes, indeed we were."
As more local hobbits came in, Frodo left the bar to take a seat at one of the tables and nurse a second half-pint of ale. Sam went with him. Merry joined the dice game and appeared to be having a wonderful time; this was the first time since he'd become the Master of the Hall that he was able to drink all he wanted and have fun at a pub. He'd promised his mother that he'd behave respectably, but he wasn't Master Merry here. Tonight, he was acting under another name. Nobody knew him, and respectability didn't matter. No more was exchanged between the two pairs of hobbits--Frodo ignored his cousins, and they disregarded him.
When Silvanus Woodbine came in, Frodo invited him to join them. "I wanted ask you a few questions about the Applegrove sisters," he explained. "Things I don't think I can ask their brother." He glanced at Pandro, who had come in with Silvanus and gone to watch the dice game on the other side of the room. "You are a friend of the family, aren't you?"
"I thought you might be interested in them," said Silvanus. "Pendira told Pan that you'd spoken to them this afternoon, and Pan told me on our way here. I heard you were asking after poor Tessa Flock, and were wondering if Pet was in the same predicament."
"I never wondered that, precisely," Frodo replied. "Mr. Gamgee and I heard rumors about Malbo paying attentions to her when he was working at the orchard last autumn. I only wanted to know how far it had gone--if he had proposed to her, how her family felt about it, that sort of thing. Miss Petula says not."
"No," Silvanus answered rather grimly, "but it wouldn't surprise me if Malbo had asked for her hand in marriage, just to get in better with her. That was a trick he had with girls."
"Did he?"
Silvanus nodded. "Maybe the fine ladies of your acquaintance aren't so, but a farm-lass or maid won't think it wrong to 'get on ahead of the wedding night,' as we say here, if she's sure there'll be a wedding coming soon."
"Yes, I've heard something like that before," said Frodo, and made Sam blush, for he'd once declared that he wouldn't mind if Rosie and Sam had gone ahead of their wedding night. "Is that what happened to Tessa?"
"I can't say much about Tessa's case, except what Pet and Pendira have told me, but she's always been a respectable girl as far as I know. I'm sure he made promises to her, and never meant to keep them." Silvanus still looked grim. "He's done it before."
"But not to Miss Petula?"
"No. He never got so far with her."
"I hope you don't mind if I ask a personal question, Mr. Woodbine," said Frodo. "Are you sweet on Petula Applegrove?"
"Pet?" Silvanus echoed with a note of surprise, then chuckled. "Oh, no. You've guessed wrong there, Mr. Baggins. It's Pendira I hope to marry, if she'll have me. Pet's a sweet chit, but flighty. Pendy's the sensible one, and she's not so plain as she makes herself out to be--not that a farmer wants a doll for a wife."
"I had noticed a strong family resemblance between the two sisters," said Frodo.
Pandro, who had grown curious about what Frodo and Silvanus were saying to each other, came closer to the table, to hear the end of the conversation. "What's all this about, Mr. Baggins?" he asked. "Why are you asking about my sisters?"
Tully, who had also come near, asked, "You don't think it was a girl who did this?"
"No," Frodo answered carefully; he now had the attention of the entire room. "I doubt if a girl had a hand on the rope, but when I get to the bottom of this, I'm sure I'll find a wronged woman. I've learned enough about Malbo Glossum that I know how disgracefully he treated the girls he pursued. I can't see anyone hating him enough to hang him over cheating at games, but a brother or father or cast-off, jealous sweetheart taking revenge on a girl's behalf--yes, I can certainly see that."
No one, not even the dim-witted bartender, could misunderstand this, but no one dared to ask exactly who Frodo had in mind. Pandro grew pale and looked quite frightened. Sam, on the other hand, was relieved. Whatever suspicions the town might have about Ham, Frodo didn't share them. Their three sisters were far away and happily married, and Ham didn't have any sweetheart.
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