Dondo Punbry came to the inn later that morning to see Frodo and offer his assistance. "As Mr. Gamgee's gone, I thought as I might stand in his place."
"Thank you, Sherriff," Frodo replied. "You might be of help. I was just going to call on the Applegroves. Would you like to come along? They know you much better than they know me, and it never hurts an investigator to keep in good practice. You mayn't have another such crime in your jurisdiction for the rest of your life... or you may. Best to be prepared."
"Just as you like, Mr. Baggins. I'll do my best. But what questions are we asking the Applegroves? I thought as you and Mr. Gamgee had been to call on them twice or thrice already."
"It's Miss Petula I want to see. Maisie Bloomer has told me that she saw Petula loitering outside the Mousehole on the night of Malbo's death."
"Did she now?" Dondo exclaimed. "I never heard a word of it before--and you may be sure I asked everybody that was here at the inn that night when I came by the next day."
"Yes, I'm sure you did, Sherriff Punbry. I believe Maisie only brought it out now to defend Ham Gamgee, when he needs no defending from me."
"Well, that's good to hear anyways. Then you think she's lying, Mr. Baggins?"
"She sounded certain of what she saw, and described Petula Applegrove quite well." He had crossed the high street to have a look at the well after speaking to Maisie, but had found little to indicate whether her story was true or not after so many days; the area around the well was a muddle of footprints and hoofprints and cartwheel tracks, but no helpful scrap of ribbon clung to any tree branch to tell him that Petula had been there. "All the same, it has to be looked into. I'd like to hear what Petula has to say about it."
"But you can't believe Miss Petula had anything to do with Malbo's hanging," Dondo protested, astounded at the idea. "A little chit like her! Besides, the Applegroves're one of the most respectable families in these parts. Why would any of `em want to do away with Malbo?"
Frodo did not answer this question. He took his pony from the stable and, with Dondo riding the pony he used for his regular rounds of the Gamwich neighborhood, they went to the Applegrove farm. There, Dondo proved himself capable of addressing Sandro Applegrove and asking if his younger daughter were home. "Miss Petula, that is," the sherriff clarified which daughter he meant deferentially.
"We'd like to speak to her, please," Frodo requested.
"She's in the garden with her sister," Mr. Applegrove told them, and showed them through the farmhouse to a back door that opened onto the slope overlooking the acres of apple trees, which were just losing their spring blooms; the view would have been remarkably lovely a few weeks earlier, but was rather faded at the moment with the fallen white petals covering the ground beneath the trees like dirty snow. The Miss Applegroves were tending a patch of kitchen garden at the bottom of the hill--or, to be precise, Pendira was cutting long rows in the soil with a hoe while Petula was sitting on the low stone wall and making a chain from some flowers growing beneath it. Both looked up when their father brought the visitors out to them.
"What can we do for you, Mr. Baggins?" Pendira asked.
Here, Sherriff Punbry's interrogating skills failed completely. Red-feathered cap in hand, he made such an apologetic approach to disturbing the ladies, let alone troubling them with prying questions, that he couldn't ask the question at all. Frodo instead asked the sherriff if he would entertain Pendira while he spoke with Petula. Pendira agreed to this.
While the sherriff and elder sister remained in the garden, the other two went out through a gate into the orchard. "It's about Malbo Glossum," Frodo explained. "I've recently had reason to believe that your acquaintance with him was more intimate than your family is aware of."
Petula shook her head. "You're wrong--that isn't so."
"You'd given him one kiss, you said. Never more? You never went walking with him, or agreed to meet him in town?"
"No, of course not!"
"You didn't wait to meet him outside the Mousehole Inn on that last night?"
"No!"
"Miss Applegrove, you were seen at the well across the way," Frodo told her. "Were you waiting to see Malbo? Did you speak to him when he came out of the inn? I don't wish to accuse you of anything, but I must know all I can about the night on which he died. When did you see him last?"
The girl stared at him in frantic bewilderment. Rescue arrived in the form of her sister, who had overheard Petula's raised voice.
"What is this, Mr. Baggins?" Pendira demanded as she came down the slope toward them. Dondo was nowhere to be seen. "What is it, Pet? What does he say you've done?"
"Oh, Pendy-!" the younger sister flew to the elder's arms and, between sobs, repeated what Frodo had said to her.
Pendira patted her sister's ribboned curls to try and comfort her. "It's all right, Petty. Don't weep so. Hush. Of course that isn't true. What nonsense! It's a wicked lie, or else a mistake. Who told you such a thing, Mr. Baggins?"
"I'd rather not say," answered Frodo.
But Pendira said, "I can guess. It was that maid at the inn, wasn't it? Oh, she's always been jealous of Petula, Mr. Baggins. You should never have listened to her. As a matter of fact, my sister was never away from the farm that evening. You can ask Mother or Papa. We all had dinner together, then sat by the kitchen fire until we went to bed."
"Except for me," this came from Pandro, who had come out of the farmhouse while Petula was sobbing. Dondo, who was with him, had evidently told him all. "You know I was at the Mousehole that night, Mr. Baggins. I was there when Malbo left, and went home about half an hour later. My sister wasn't there to see me or Malbo or anybody!"
"Petula and I sleep in the same bed. We have since we were small," said Pendira. "I swear to you that she never once stirred `til daybreak. Isn't that so, Petty? We were always together that night?"
Petula lifted her head from Pendira's shoulder and blinked at her in wonderment. "Oh, yes," she said with a distinct note of relief. "Yes, that's so."
"Then you've nothing to be afraid of, my dear," Pendira told her sister, then looked back to Frodo. "There you are, Mr. Baggins."
Yes, Frodo had to agree; there he was. He could ask the Applegroves' parents, who had also come out to see what was going on, but he knew it was a fruitless exercise. They would say just the same. The whole family would stand together, and it was their word against Maisie's. But as he regarded the two sisters, who were still holding each other, their faces cheek to cheek, a new idea occurred to him.
"Then I must beg your pardon," he said. "I'm sorry to have distressed you so, Miss Applegate. Since I'd heard the tale, I had no choice but to ask about it and hear your side."
"Then you believe me?" Petula asked tearfully.
"I believe that you were nowhere near the Mousehole that night, Miss Applegate," replied Frodo. "It must have been someone else."
Frodo considered the matter on his walk back into town. He'd spoken the truth. No, he was sure that it hadn't been Petula waiting for Malbo that night. He saw now how the murder had been done, and who had done it. He still wasn't quite sure why. What had brought them to such a dire and brutal act?
His head was spinning, as it often did on these occasions when all the answers to his questions resolved themselves into a coherent picture and he saw the truth at last. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, except for the straight line of the lane before his feet; as he went past the crosslane that led to the Flock smial, a figure stepped out from the hedgerow to block his way. It was Mr. Flock, scowling furiously.
"I told you I didn't want you bothering my sister with your poking and prying questions," he said. "But you couldn't let her alone, could you?"
"Mr. Flock-" Frodo tried to reply, but the angry hobbit wasn't interested in hearing explanations.
"No! Malbo's dead and she's got nothing to with it. Hasn't she suffered enough over him, without you dragging out her disgrace so everybody knows about it?"
"I've no time for this nonsense." Frodo gave up and tried to go past, but Flock grabbed him by the arm.
"You leave her alone!" he shouted, and swung; Frodo ducked, too slowly, and a hard row of knuckles grazed his forehead. The next thing he knew, he was kneeling on the hard-packed dirt of the lane and Flock was above him, ready to strike him again.
Then there was an unexpected, shrill cry, and his opponent tumbled down beside him beneath a flurry of shawl and skirts.
"You leave him alone!" said Tessa, pinning her brother by sitting on his back and holding his head down with both her hands. "I went to talk to Mr. Baggins, Teb. He didn't come to me. You hear me?"
Her brother's reply was a grunt.
"I mean it now," she insisted. "You mind me--I won't let you up `til you promise to behave yourself."
Another grunt, but Tessa must have heard a satisfactory response, for she released her brother.
"I was only trying to protect you, Tess," he told her grudgingly, rubbing one side of his head.
"You call it protecting, going about hitting people?" she responded. "It's no good, Teb. You make it worse. If I've brought the family shame, then I'll be off and won't be a burden to you, soon as I find a place to go to. You won't see me again, nor Malbo's child neither. You think I'd let you have care of my baby, with a bad temper like yours?" She gave him a shove. "Be off home with you now, and soak your head. I'll look after poor Mr. Baggins."
Poor Mr. Baggins was still sitting in the middle of the lane, gaping up at his rescuer with wonder.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Baggins," Tessa said after she'd seen her brother off down the lane toward their home. "He saw when I talked to you, and it's been on his mind that I was telling tales. I knew there'd be trouble when we saw you going by before. Are you all right, Mr. Baggins?" she asked as she helped him regain his feet. "Oh, look at your poor head!"
"I'm all right," Frodo answered, although he felt a little wobbly. There was a throbbing point of pain just above his left eye; he lifted one hand to his brow and found a sensitive, rising lump, but when he lowered his hand he was relieved to see there was no blood.
"Are you fit to walk? I'd take you back to our house, only Tebbo's there and you'd best not see him again."
"I'll manage," Frodo assured her. "It's not so bad. Thank you, Miss Flock. But you ought to caution that brother of yours to control his temper. It'll lead him into trouble." He laughed. "The last time something like this happened to me, the hobbit who did it ended up hanged."
"Oh!" exclaimed Tessa in horror. "You don't think he killed Malbo for my sake, do you, Mr. Baggins?"
"I did think so, once," Frodo admitted. "But I know better now."
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