West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
St George, Skirrid Inn
4 November 1898, 11:44 a.m.

Dishes clinked and the first patrons had been animating the taproom since the early hours of the morning. Four men sat huddled at one of the tables, chatting about the weather and the progress of some construction work. When the doctor and Kyle came downstairs, the gentlemen had at least nodded in a friendly manner. One of them had even offered to sit with them. Their sleeves were pushed up, their clothes dirty and their faces were as dirty as the air around them. The doctor, in his curt manner, declined, but Kyle intervened. He explained to the gentlemen that they might be able to keep them company tonight, but that they would prefer a solid breakfast first. This caused a joke or two, but at least not indignation.

Meanwhile, Kyle sat on one of the hard chairs. After sliding back and forth several times and finding a reasonably comfortable position, he sipped his cup of fresh black tea. This morning Elly had kindly brewed him a whole pot and by God, he needed it badly. Straw had been poking through the scratchy sheet somewhere, almost all night so that at some point he wanted to scream in frustration into the stained pillow. He was dead tired and took far too long before he finally fell into an unsatisfactory sleep. Now white curls of fragrant steam rose above the cup while his gaze lingered somewhere on an indeterminate spot on the wall.

Elly had dished up a small platter of sausage and cheese, plus toast and porridge. "Please," remarked Elly in a light-hearted tone. Meanwhile, she placed a small jar and a small basket of fresh bread on the table with the brunch that had been laid out. "I made the jam myself. The elderberries are especially sweet this year," she told me proudly, wiping her palms on her apron. Today, too, the young girl looked weary, even if her easy manner knew how to cover it up well. No doubt it had to be exhausting now that Mr. Andrews was gone and Mrs. Andrews was obviously not yet able to give her a hand.

"Do they have to entertain the inn alone now?" asked Dr. Archer as he looked at the food on offer, finally deciding on a couple of slices of toast. Elly's smile faded, then she peered briefly over her shoulder as if to make sure no one heard. 

"Ms. Andrews hasn't been in particularly good health for a little while now." she related in a somewhat matter-of-fact tone, "And since Mr. Andrews passed away so suddenly, Ms. Andrews has been very..." she searched for the right words, ".... Despondent? Her loss is very great." Elly glanced to the side. To where the mourning picture stood with the candles already relit.

At that moment, something rattled in the kitchen. A metallic sound clanged like an alarm, and Elly's eyes snapped open. "Oh no! My stew!" she groaned, her skirt waving like a waving flag behind the girl as she hurried into the kitchen.

At the neighboring table, one of the villagers sitting there had probably picked up the current topic of conversation.

"She's getting worse and worse. She hasn't been herself for the last few months. But now she talks to almost no one." Sounded a voice with rolling coils in the room and one of the men shook his head.

"True enough. But who's surprised? She lost her husband." countered another in a milder voice.

 The third, a blond, on the other hand, laughed and patted his thigh.

"I'm sure my wife wouldn't mourn me like that."

"Oh don't worry, I'd comfort her all right!" another interjected and they poked each other in the sides a little in joking roughness. It sounded like the typical chatter of a round of washerwomen.

 Everyone laughed and Kyle sighed, lifted his cup, and blew away the steam curling over the surface of the dark tea.

"It's a wonder she's still crying at all." the fourth finally said and snorted almost contemptuously. Apparently, Kyle and Dr. Archer did not understand the innuendo. The other gentlemen, however, certainly did, as approving hums and nods went through the group of men.

"Why is that? " Dr. Archer dared to ask between them. The blond guy's grin widened, slanted at the corner of his mouth and he leaned further forward. The table creaked loudly under the weight on the edge of the table.

"Didn't have it easy with her husband, good Arabella," he said in an auspicious tone. Clattering sounded from the kitchen and only then did he continue, as if he had wanted to pause to increase the tension. "Had pretty dirty fingers, good Andrews. Not just because of his work in the kitchen." The man wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully. "Just couldn't keep his fingers to himself..."

"Enough of that!" a loud clatter made the counter tremble as Elly slammed the tray of brought-out tankards onto the top. Ale spilled over the edge, spreading across the tray in brownish-yellow patches and ruining the scrambled eggs as it poured over them in a gush. "You don't speak ill of the dead!" the young thing ordered the gentlemen in a harsh tone of voice, letting her gaze slide over the men in a cutting sternness.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves! Saying such things - and then in front of the guests!" she pointed at Dr. Archer and Kyle. Only the latter had his eyes fixed directly on the scene and did not have the decency to look away and look preoccupied or even innocent as Dr. Archer did. The latter had the newspaper from London 2 days ago spread out in front of him and pretended not to have noticed anything. One could clearly see the indignation in the young woman's features. Her delicate appearance seemed to have disappeared behind flashing eyes, while the deer now revealed claws out of nowhere. "Out you go." finished Elly sternly, raising her hand meaningfully with an outstretched index finger towards the door.

Caught off guard, the big guys slid into their chairs as if they suddenly had fire ants in their trousers. Only one folded his arms in front of his chest and narrowed his eyes. "The truth is! The old goat went after anything with a skirt on!" he rumbled, and the young woman's eyes fixed on him.

"Get out of here. Now!" repeated Elly, as if she were mistress of the house. This time the first of the villagers rose to their feet to the loud scraping of old chairs. "You speak ill of a dead man, the former master of the house at that. I don't want to see you here until you remember what respect is." Elly's voice sounded agitated, even though she was visibly trying to be calm."Come on." Murmured one of his friends to his mate and patted him on the broad shoulder in an encouraging manner. Now the last one rose and together the men trudged out of the parlor. Elly followed the men firmly to the door and stopped there in the frame. It reminded Kyle of last night when the girl had shooed the older woman away just as forcefully. The men left behind a dejected, heavy mood that, unlike the gentlemen, didn't want to slide out the door so easily. Elly stood at the inn's gate for a moment longer, gazing after the rough fellows who, voices drifting away, continued to discuss outside what had and had not been appropriate.

Autumn sunshine groped across the threshold and was shut out as Elly snorted and closed the door, turning back to the guests. She sweepingly tossed the long, dark braid back over her shoulder and strode energetically towards the remaining gentlemen. In the hallway, her shoulders slumped again, her attack posture melting away, and the girl wiped her palms on the apron that lay over her green skirt. A floral scent resonated with her once more. "I'm sorry you had to hear that," she said in a calmer tone, but there was still a hint of harshness around the softly curved lips.

She was probably ashamed of this behavior in front of strangers. Kyle waved it off. "It's all right, you don't have to apologize. We didn't hear a thing," he said, leaning back in his chair at the same time. Elly's expression brightened a little. Then she leaned forward and placed her slender, cool fingers over his hand, which rested on the table next to the cup. Kyle wore gloves, but he didn't need to touch her fingers to see that she was covered in small and already faded scars and patches of reddened skin. Busy delicate limbs that worked hard.

"Thank you so much. You are truly a gentleman. They should set an example." she commented, winking playfully at Kyle. With that remark, she seemed reassured as she turned to the abandoned table and set about clearing away the glasses and jugs, then wiping away the mess of spilled ale left at the counter.

Only when she had disappeared into the kitchen did Dr. Archer let his eyes wander over the edge of the black letters on his newspaper to Kyle. "Was that young lady flirting with you just now?" he asked and Kyle snorted as he ran the back of his left hand. A tingling sensation lingered but sank in again moments later as he reached for his cup.

"Of course she did. I'm irresistible." Kyle returned, and Dr. Archer's eyebrow slid upwards like a worm over a fishhook. And in the same way, he seemed to have taken a bite out of Kyle's dry words as he now ran a particularly expansive hand through his hair, grinning broadly. "I beg you. Just look at me! I'll break hearts just by being here."

Dr. Archer opened his mouth, but then quickly closed it again and emitted what could almost be mistaken for an amused snort! Then he glanced at his newspaper again but didn't seem to be reading. His eyes fixed on a dot instead of following the lines.

"Be that as it may. What the gentlemen implied was pretty outrageous." he opined and Kyle silently agreed with him. But Elly had handled the situation rather resolutely.

"She doesn't seem to take any shit," Kyle remarked again a little more seriously and reached into the pocket of his waistcoat. A soft click was heard as the lid of the gold pocket watch popped open. "I guess the constable should be arriving soon." The hand slid towards twelve, clicking softly. Presumably, that was why the men had been in the parlor. That explained their dirty and sweaty clothes. Now, however, his thoughts followed the hand to the upcoming meeting. Kyle was not exactly seething with anticipation of the conversation with the mayor. Fortunately, it was easy to pass oneself off as a freelance detective, as those did not have ID cards compared to police officers. Anyone could become a snoop and stick his nose into other people's business. At least until someone dents his nosy thing. The only thing policemen and private detectives had in common in terms of popularity with the people.... was none. Nobody liked beadles, especially in big cities. Corruption was not uncommon and especially among poor people, most dogs of the law were happy to look the other way. They rarely risked their lives for a street rat.

"Did another guest arrive yesterday, miss?" asked Dr. Archer then suddenly out of the blue, jerked his head a little to look at the young maid. Kyle had rarely seen him direct so much attention in any direction unless it was something scientific like examining the bird. Now he had a similarly focused gaze.

Elly's gaze found the doctor's and she tilted her head slightly to one side, tilting her head with it. One of the brown strands hung in front of her eyes and she wiped that back with such an automated movement that it looked like a habit. "No. What makes you think that?" she spoke her thoughts, meanwhile gathering one of the jugs from the abandoned table.

"I see." Normally, this would have been the end of it. Instead, the doctor continued speaking.

 "Then I hope we haven't made too much of a mess. I noticed yesterday that we must have dragged in a bit more dirt than we thought."

Elly looked clueless. Then, all at once, her eyes widened a little and she shifted her posture. It was hardly noticeable and only showed in the way she tightened her shoulders a touch. Elly's fingers paused in their movement for a second before reaching for the nearest jug. "But don't. What makes you think that?" she inquired, noticeably more interested. And Kyle realized that the doctor had just baited her. Only with what was not quite clear to him.

Her question caused Dr. Archer to lower the paper altogether. Paper rustled as he folded it in the creases and rested his hand on it. "I heard a noise in the corridor last night. But when I went to check, there was nothing. Just some dirt in the corridor." he explained in a matter-of-fact tone, but noticeably quieter. Maybe he didn't want anyone else outside this room to be able to hear it. Something was going on here in this place and after the events of last night, they might as well have been discreetly tense. On the other hand, they had found many more disturbing clues than defusing ones and they were only at the beginning of this assignment.

Elly's fingers reached for the braid over her shoulder and traced the soft coils of the braid pattern. She seemed tenser all of a sudden. As if Dr. Archer had twisted the side of a fiddle a little too hard so that all at once the whole timbre changed. Her gaze slid to the door leading to the upper floor, then back to the guests. Then she wiped her fingers on her apron a few times more than was necessary and approached the table again. She took the small jar of jam in her hands and the slender chin dropped, tilting towards her chest and drawing uncertainty into the young face.

"I wasn't going to say anything." she pressured and Kyle's body stiffened. Something in him tensed, making him straighten and lean forward, just so he wouldn't miss a word. A tingling sensation scattered the back of his neck. No doubt under the foreboding of an auspicious announcement those words carried with their ruffled hum. "Because, after all, you are acquainted with Henry -" she broke off briefly, "I mean, the constable..."

Had she overheard something of the ritual yesterday? Or did the young girl possess any clues to the strange events? Perhaps even to the deaths or what had happened in the forest!!! She worked in the tavern and surely she got to hear a lot from everyone here?

Elly wiped her apron again with the flat of her hands. It seemed to be a habit she probably didn't even notice anymore. The girl actually looked like she was fretting about what she was going to say. "I don't want anyone to get in trouble." She continued, half lowering her eyelids as she bit her lower lip.

Kyle felt the uncomfortable squeeze behind his eyes. The Doctor, on the other hand, had his eyes fixed directly on Elly, seeming to hang intently on her lips, awaiting the next words.

"I understand. We will be silent," he promised and Elly gave him a slightly sugared smile in return. But the small curl at the corner of her mouth faded as quickly as it had come. Instead, she fumbled for her braid, feeling the end as it slipped through her fingers. "Yesterday I had a bit of trouble with Old Mrs. Jäger." she told in her lowered voice, "Ms. Andrew has instructed us not to sell her any more of our supplies. The old lady doesn't get anything at the grocer's you know." her lips formed a pitying curve. "I had to send her away. And this morning I suddenly ran out of bacon for the stew."

"It's... Bacon gone?" Kyle couldn't stop his disappointment from breaking through.

Elly nodded in response. "I'm quite sure I locked the back door. But this morning I found dirt in the hallways and the parlor," she told me, looking more uneasy. She shifted her weight again and her fingers twitched. "I don't want to cause the old lady any trouble or make any allegations." She stressed quickly and Dr. Archer tapped her fingertips on the wooden table. So that was all. Nothing sinister to do with the bones. Still, Kyle struggled with the idea that such an old woman could break into an inn so easily.

"Ms. Andrews is not well. I don't want her to get any more upset," Elly said, pressing her lips together. Just then the doctor reached out and took the girl's hand in his and patted it comfortingly. Kyle looked at this strange scene and knew no more about it than he did about the mysterious disappearing bacon and the thief on dirty soles.

"We won't tell." He assured and then withdrew his hand. Elly smiled a little more now, seemed relieved, and turned her gaze to Kyle. The latter's forehead was still in thoughtful and irritated creases. Strange. This was all really strange.