Her husband's parting words had brought on an attack of violent hysterics and the alarmed servants, fearing a seizure, had, on their own responsibility, summoned the only doctor of Lud in whom they had any faith, Endymion Leer. And, judging from Dame Jessamine's serene and smiling face, he had succeeded in removing completely the terrible impression produced by her husband's parting words, and in restoring to what she was pleased to call her mind its normal condition, namely that of a kettle that contains just enough water to simmer comfortably over a low fire.
She greeted Master Ambrose with a smile that for her was quite eager.
"Oh, Ambrose!" she cried, "I have been having such a pleasant talk with Dr. Leer. He says girls of her age often get silly and excited, though I'm sure I never did, and that she's sure to be brought home before night. But I do think we'd better take her away from Miss Primrose's. For one thing she has really learned quite enough now - I know no one who can make prettier groups in butter. So I think we had better give a ball for her before the winter, so if you will excuse me, Dr. Leer, I have just a few things to see to" and off she bustled to overhaul Moonlove's bridal chest, which, according to the custom of Dorimarite mothers, she had been storing, ever since her daughter's birth, with lace and velvets and brocade.
Not without reason, Dame Jessamine was considered the stupidest woman in Lud-in-the-Mist. And, in addition, the Ludite's lack of imagination and inability to feel serious emotions, amounted in her to a sort of affective idiocy.
So Master Ambrose found himself alone with Endymion Leer; and, though he had never liked the man, he was very glad to have the chance of consulting him. For, socially, however great his shortcomings might be, Master Ambrose knew him to be undeniably the best doctor in the country, and a very clever fellow into the bargain.
"Leer," he said solemnly, when Dame Jessamine had left the room, "there are very queer things happening at that Academy very queer things."
"Indeed?" said Endymion Leer, in a tone of surprise. "What sort of things?"
Master Ambrose gave a short laugh: "Not the sort of things, if my suspicions are correct, that one cares to talk about - even between men. But I can tell you, Leer, though I'm not what one could call a fanciful man, I believe if I'd stayed much longer in that house I should have gone off my head, the whole place stinks with well, with pernicious nonsense, and I actually found myself, I, Ambrose Honeysuckle, seeing things - ridiculous things."
Endymion Leer looked interested.
"What sort of things, Master Ambrose?" he asked.
"Oh, it's not worth repeating - except in so far as it shows that the fancies of silly overwrought women can sometimes be infectious. I actually imagined that I saw the Senate room portrait of Duke Aubrey reflected on the window. And if I take to fancying things - well, there must be something very fishy in the offing."
Endymion Leer's expression was inscrutable.
"Optical delusions have been known before, Master Ambrose," he said calmly. "Even the eyes of Senators may sometimes play them tricks. Optical delusions, legal fictions - and so the world wags on."
Master Ambrose grunted. He loathed the fellow's offensive way of putting things.
But he was sore at heart and terribly anxious, and he felt the need of having his fears either confirmed or dispelled, so, ignoring the sneer, he said with a weary sigh: "However, that's a mere trifle. I have grave reasons for fearing that my daughter has has well, not to put too fine a point on things, I'm afraid that my daughter has eaten fairy fruit."
Endymion Leer flung up his hands in horror, and then he laughed incredulously.
"Impossible, my dear sir, impossible! Your good lady told me you were sadly anxious about her, but let me assure you such an idea is mere morbidness on your part. The thing's impossible."
"Is it?" said Master Ambrose grimly; and producing the slipper from his pocket he held it out, saying, "What do you say to that? I found it in Miss Crabapple's parlour. I'm not much of a botanist, but I've never seen purple strawberries in Dorimare Toasted cheese! What's taken the man?"
For Endymion Leer had turned livid, and was staring at the design on the shoe with eyes as full of horror as if it had been some hideous goblin.
Master Ambrose interpreted this as corroboration of his own theory.
He gave a sort of groan: "Not so impossible after all, eh?" he said gloomily. "Yes, that I very much fear is the sort of stuff my poor little girl has been given to eat."
Then his eyes flashed, and clenching his fist he cried, "But it's not her I blame. Before I'm many days older I'll smoke out that nest of wasps! I'll hang that simpering old woman from her own doorpost. By the Golden Apples of the West I'll"
Endymion Leer had by this time, at any rate externally, recovered his equanimity.
"Are you referring to Miss Primrose Crabapple?" he asked in his usual voice.
"Yes, Miss Primrose Crabapple!" boomed Master Ambrose, "nonsensical, foul-minded, obscene old"
"Yes, yes," interrupted Endymion Leer with good-humoured impatience, "I daresay she's all of that and a great deal more, but, all the same, I don't believe her capable of having given your daughter what you think she has. I admit, when you first showed me that slipper I was frightened. Unlike you, I am a bit of a botanist, and I certainly have never seen a berry like that in Dorimare. But after all that does not prove that it grows across the hills. There's many a curious fruit to be found in the Cinnamon Isles, or in the oases of the Amber Desert why, your own ships, Master Ambrose, sometimes bring such fruit. The ladies of Lud have no lack of exotic fruit and flowers to copy in their embroidery. No, no, you're a bit unhinged this evening, Master Ambrose, else you would not allow so much as the shadow of foul suspicions like these to cross your mind."
Master Ambrose groaned.
And then he said a little stiffly, "I am not given, Dr. Leer, to harbouring foul suspicions without cause. But a great deal of mischief is sometimes done by not facing facts. How is one to explain my daughter's running away, due west, like one possessed? Besides, Prunella Chanticleer as much as told me she had eaten a certain thing and and I'm old enough to remember the great drought, so I know the smell, so to speak, of evil, and there is something very strange going on in that Academy."
"Prunella Chanticleer, did you say?" queried Endymion Leer with an emphasis on the last word, and with a rather odd expression in his eyes.
Master Ambrose looked surprised.
"Yes," he said. "Prunella Chanticleer, her school fellow and intimate friend."
Endymion Leer gave a short laugh.
"The Chanticleers are rather curious people," he said drily, "Are you aware that Ranulph Chanticleer has done the very thing you suspect your daughter of having done?"
Master Ambrose gaped at him.
Ranulph had certainly always been an odd and rather disagreeable boy, and there had been that horrid little incident at the Moongrass cheese supper-party but that he actually should have eaten fairy fruit!
"Do you mean? Do you mean?" he gasped.
Endymion Leer nodded his head significantly: "One of the worst cases I have ever known."
"And Nathaniel knows?"
Again Endymion Leer nodded.
A wave of righteous indignation swept over Master Ambrose. The Honeysuckles were every bit as ancient and honourable a family as the Chanticleers, and yet here was he, ready to tarnish his escutcheon for ever, ready if need be to make the town crier trumpet his disgrace from the market-place, to sacrifice money, position, family pride, everything, for the good of the community. While the only though of Nathaniel, and he the Mayor, was to keep his skeleton safely hidden in the cupboard.