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*****

As it turned out, it did not make any difference. The Lieutenant had, evidently, already gone to bed, making it a very early night. On the table in the kitchen, propped up against the shove-copper board, was a simple note.

"Private - while you were helping Brother Rivers, Rivers sent his man Bagoum over to help me. Stop by the market tomorrow morning and pick up one of everything, we're out. Put it on the slate until next pay-day. - JC."

I opened the icebox and all of the cabinets in the kitchen, and found that the Lieutenant's powers of observation had not failed him. Everything, down to the jar of honey, some dried beans, and an unidentifiable husk of no fixed abode had been swept up into the ram's maw. It made me wonder how he'd managed to do it under Chitterleigh's eye. Then again, I suppose he hadn't been much in the mood for supervision. Either that, or Bagoum had better luck at shove-copper against the Lieutenant that he did against me.

One thing that did strike me was that if shove-copper was being played, Private Flood's case was still on the squirrel's mind. A wholesome distraction, and one better than others that I could think of, even if Bagoum had cleaned out the wine rack, too.

There was a distinct advantage to having paid off the merchants from the proceeds of the Batmen's Bazar: it made them somewhat more likely to extend credit again, though I suppose they were apprehensive that the Cycle of Life was starting again. I did take one measure that raised a few eyebrows among the stall-holders: I was toting a basket and insisting on carrying away my purchases.

Not that I was not going to have any help. Assistance materialized at my elbow, and silently began to transfer the smaller and lighter articles from my basket to another one. I made brief eye contact with Meadow, who gravely nodded, and helped me finish the day's shopping.

I was hoping that she would pick up on my particular plan, and I was not disappointed. We walked back to BOQ Row in silence, even if we could have whispered without any fur hearing us. She, too, wanted to preserve as much conversation as possible.

Only after both of us had placed our baskets upon the kitchen table did I finally speak; each of us had one ear swiveled away to the main room of the bungalow.

"Thank you, Meadow, for helping. I don't mean to put you out of your way."

"It's quite all right, Westersloe. I don't think I'd have much to do, anyway. Miss Eichelgruber has been keeping to herself the last day or so."

"Oh? What's she been doing?"

"Do you know she plays the lute?"

"No, but it doesn't surprise me."

"She's very good at it. A lovely singing voice, too. I heard her last night doing The Watch From On High."

Since Meadow was, of course, telling the truth, my eyebrow raise was genuine. That's an old classic ballad, about the maiden whose love was captured by goblins, but refused to believe that he was never coming back. Each night, she would climb a tower to look out over the fields, expecting him to return. The Night, in sympathy, kept the Moon alight for her. It has a happy ending, after a fashion: after many years, when all but the maiden had given up hope, he returned to her. I closed my eyes, and declaimed.

"And so was gathered to shriveled chest/

an aged muzzle, arms robbed of brawn/

With gentle murmurs and breezes blest/

Night winked at Day, and hid the dawn."

"You know it!"

"It's supposed to have been written in Elfhame. It sounds a bit different in our dialect."

"It's a lovely ballad, Westersloe."

"Well, I imagine Miss Eichelgruber is very sad, Meadow. The subject must have been on her mind. I saw that note she wrote. There were tears on it."

"I didn't see her writing it, but I heard her. Oh, Westersloe? How did your man take it?"

"We haven't spoken, but he's been...I don't know...seems a bit distracted. Went to bed early last night. Didn't feel like going out. And he did seem very upset after his meal with his father."

"I wonder how upset."

"I don't know, but he didn't give me any money to do the shopping. I wonder if that means he refused his allowance from his father. He was supposed to have been given something, I think. He mentioned it not longer after I started working for him."

"You think his father tried to bribe him?"

"Not in so many words, but I draw my own conclusions from the lack of money to go to market."

"I'd like to think you're right. Your officer isn't mean. He's a gentlefur and an elf, right down to the toe-claws. He'll stick to the letter of whatever she says, right?" She then winked at me.

"No question, Meadow, he'll do exactly as she says, no more, no less. That's what he thinks of her, I'll bet."

"Those two are so nice together. If I were a squirrel, I'd be a bit jealous of her." She giggled.

"Well, Miss Eichelgruber has good taste. Speaking of taste, her house is very pretty. How do you manage to keep it up...?"

The conversation from there wandered a bit as we put away the food and drinks, though we returned to the subject of Miss Eichelgruber's moods now and again, including the fact that she was "home" to no one today.

"Is your officer home, Westersloe?"

"Well, it is pretty quiet, so maybe not."

"Well, then..."

Strictly for the sake of keeping up appearances and the general thrust of the plan both of us had, we spent the next pawful of minutes doing something that made Meadow giggle, and at one point gently smack my ear for being "saucy."

"Westersloe, when do you think you'll next have some time?"

"I don't know. It might depend on how the Lieutenant is feeling. How about your mistress?"

"I'd say the same. Do some evening shopping tomorrow, and we'll find out."

"Here's something to tide you over until then..."

A few minutes later, after smoothing out her uniform, Meadow left the bungalow, tapping the side of her muzzle and glancing at the door to the Lieutenant's bedroom, which was shut.

I pottered about the bungalow for a time, dusting the furniture, and refilling the oil lamp near the tribute to Fuma in the Red Corner. Chitterleigh eventually made his appearance, his chin sunk down into his dressing-gown.

"Good morn...well, afternoon, sir. Would you care for something to eat before you go out?"

"Ah. Been to market, then?"

"Yes, sir."

He grunted, and thrust a paw deep into the pocket of the gown. He pulled out a sheet of paper while I went off to brew a cup of tea. He thrust the paper back into his pocket as I placed a roll and jam before him with the tea.

After a few sips, he frowned at me.

"Let's have one thing absolutely clear, Private: I'm a fur of my word."

"Yes, sir."

"If I say I'm going to do something, and I put my name to it, it's going to be done exactly as I say. Am I...er...absolutely clear on that, Private?"

"Perfectly, sir. As a gentlefur and an elf, right down to the toe-claws."

The Lieutenant choked as a bit of roll-and-jam went down the wrong way, and he was a bit flushed in the face when he spoke to me next.

"Now, look, Private, you're a good batman, but you're subject to the worst flaw of your type: you're a horrible gossip."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm sure Rivers and Wicker would agree with me. Schweink and Bagoum constantly talk about them, don't they?"

"They've spoken of them, sir."

"Well, I suppose it would be futile of me to try to stop you from talking about how I'm feeling or what I'm doing, especially to your...ahem...well, your girl."

"Sir?"

He wagged a finger. "Now, come off it, Private. Don't try to fob bland, fawn-like looks of innocence off on me. I know you've got an understanding with that servant of Miss Eichelgruber's. Don't deny it, now."

"I'm curious as to how you know, sir."

I timed the question just as he was taking a sip of tea, which caused him to splutter.

"Well...it's obvious...I mean, any fur can see...hang it, I just know it, all right?"

"Very good, sir."

"And the difference between you and me, Private, is that I don't go around...err, talking about what my batman does on his time off."

"No, sir, it's very much a distinction between us."

"I suppose I can't...errr...cure of that bad habit, so I'll just have to...um...ah..."

"Accept it, sir?"

"Yes, quite."

"Sir?"

"What is it, Private?"

"Seeing as you have a double shift in the Orderly Room tomorrow, sir, would you mind if I attended to some personal business, then?"

Chitterleigh sighed, and with a weary wave of his paw, assented. I thanked him, and got a written pass.

As he tossed his ink-reed on the desk blotter, he turned to me.

"Winterbough, how good are you on ballads?"

"What, singing, sir?"

"Not necessarily that, though it helps, but y'know, the words and all."

"Not bad, sir. Why do you ask?"

"Been trying to think of one all day, and it's on the tip of my tongue. Can't for the life of me remember the words. It's one of the funny ones. There's something about three brothers that enter into it."

"Hmmmm...oh! You mean The Tod in Triplicate, sir?"

"Which one is that?"

"If I remember sir, that was the one where a gentlefur was warned off by a rival not to see his lady love, and he tricked the fur by using his identical siblings to make it seem like he was some place where he really wasn't. Eventually, the villain loses his mind when the thinks he sees the fox everywhere."

Chitterleigh snapped his fingers. "That's the one. There's a line in there somewhere...I think he delivers it right to the muzzle of the chap, while he's being carted away to the madhouse."

"Yes sir, it's like this..." I cleared my throat.

"My friend, before ye go away/

Ponder this, these words I say/

You cannot crush a heart that's gay/

True love will always find the way."

"Right, right, right. Thank you, Private. I needed that, was trying to remember it. Words to live by, eh?"

"I think it's a sentiment often expressed in ballads, sir."

"Well, it's the stuff to give the troops, Winterbough, and don't you forget it."

"I shan't, sir."

"Errr. Remember, don't forget it."

"No, sir. I shall remember it."

The Lieutenant distractedly ran his claws through his head-fur.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

"Eh? No, no. Not at the moment. But I'll think of something. If there's anything else I want to tell..." Chitterleigh's ears turned bright red, and he coughed. "Mean t'say, if I...oh, blast, forget I said anything."

"Very good, sir. Shall I draw your bath and lay out your uniform?"

My officer had a far-away look in his eyes.

"Eh? Sorry, wasn't listening. Oh! Yes, yes...I suppose you'd better, at that."