The ostler reported that someone had entered the stable late during the night, but when he'd come down from his cot in the hayloft to see who it was, the person had fled. All the ponies, including the two belonging to the so-called Mr. and Mrs. Flowers were still in their stalls. Since most of Budgefords' residents stabled their ponies at the inn, it was assumed that Florisel had fled on foot. With this encouraging information, Chief Shirriff Horrocks set off to lead the search. Mr. Noakes went about making arrangements for Lady Iris's body to be laid out properly according to traditional Shire customs.
Frodo, having no appetite for his now-cold breakfast, went out the front door of the inn for a breath of fresh air. A small crowd of curiosity seekers had gathered outside. It seemed as if half of Budgeford--the rest had joined the search--had turned out for more news about the shocking death at the inn. Frodo noted that his Aunt Asphodel was not present, but her maid was; Asphodel would think it unseemly to take an open interest in such a lurid event, but since he was in the middle of it, she would also expect him to come tell her about it without making her to come and stand out in the street with the commonplace hobbits. He spoke briefly to the maid and promised to visit his aunt's house later in the day.
As he scanned the crowd and answered questions from others who were bold enough to ask him, he spotted a familiar face he hadn't expected to see--or rather, one he had forgotten to expect--and he felt an enormous sense of relief. "Sam!" he cried as his friend came around from the stableyard. When Sam was close enough, Frodo gave him a quick but fierce hug. "I'm so glad you've arrived. You missed all the excitement this morning. What kept you?"
"I'm sorry I'm late," said Sam. "The pony cast a shoe, so I had to stop in Frogmorton for last night. I came as quick as I could. Now what's going on here, Frodo? When I went through Whitfurrows, they was saying there'd been a murder at the Three Badgers inn and everyone was out looking for the one that did it."
"That's not quite so. Yes, someone is dead, and it's someone we know. Lady Iris Took. You remember."
"Lady Iris!" Sam remembered her well.
"She apparently drank some poison--I'll tell you about it, and I want you to see for yourself." He had to have someone else see what he had seen in that room, and understand its significance. Frodo took Sam by the arm and they went into the inn. As they crossed the front hall, they were met by Mr. Noakes.
"I was just looking for you, Mr. Baggins," the innkeeper told him once some curiosity seekers who had ventured in were shooed back outside with a 'there's nothing for you to see here!' "We've done what we could for the dead lady, but it seems to me her family ought to be told. Does she have family of her own?"
"A son," said Frodo, "and a mother." He wondered what had happened to Mrs. Scuttle, who had disappeared at the same time as Lady Iris and Florisel.
"What about these North-Tooks. You say as you know them? They'd want to know, wouldn't they?"
"Yes, they would. I'll write them." Thain Brabantius and his family would certainly want to learn how Iris had come to her end--although, except for Iris's son Isigo, whom the Thain had adopted, few would feel sorrow over the news. The Thain's children and their spouses were more likely to say that the lady had met a fitting fate. "I'd like Shirriff Gamgee to have a look at the room. Is it still locked?"
"Not since Chief Horrocks was in it," Mr. Noakes answered, "but it an't been touched yet, save to lay her ladyship out. I made sure as we didn't touch that cup on the floor as you was so particular about." While he didn't understand why it was important, this one point had been fixed in the innkeeper's mind. "Our lass won't dare go in to straighten up as is usual of a morning, but Mrs. Noakes went with me to see to her ladyship. `Tis a more fitting task for a woman." Then he remembered something. "And she found this." He took from his waistcoat pocket a small vial of dark-colored glass with a cork stopper and gave it to Frodo.
"Where did Mrs. Noakes find this?" Frodo asked.
"In the pocket of her ladyship's dress. It fell out, like, when my misses turned her to lie flat. Mrs. Noakes thought you'd be int'rested to see it."
"Yes, indeed. Thank her for me." As the innkeeper left them to intercept another group of curious visitors at the door, Frodo cautiously pulled out the cork. The vial was empty except for some damp residue that clung to the sides and retained a strong but oddly familiar odor. He let Sam have a sniff.
Sam identified it immediately. "Pipeweed."
"A syrup of pipeweed juice." Frodo considered this. If someone were to brew pipeweed leaves and strain off the liquid...? "Can pipeweed kill, Sam? Is it poisonous?"
"It'll give you a nasty cough if you smoke too much of it."
"What if you were to drink it, like tea?"
Sam made a face at the thought. "I wouldn't like to try. It'd most likely make you sick."
"Or worse?"
"Maybe worse, if it was brewed strong enough."
Frodo was still thoughtful as he carefully wrapped the vial in his handkerchief and tucked it into a pocket. "Shall we go and see the room?"
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