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I was taken aback. “I suppose that I haven’t paid them enough attention.”

“I don’t imagine you have. They are ornamental.”

One of the bowls had begun to overflow, but neither of us made a move to empty it. Finally, Mary stood. “I should get back to work.”

“You’ve given me a great deal to think about,” I said. “Have you seen Havelock?”

“He’s with the Duke.”

“Thank you.” I stood. “I hope you have a pleasant morning, Mary.”

“And you.”

Returning to the conservatory where the Duke lay was a sombre affair. Rain coursed in through the rent in the conservatory roof, soaking his trunk. His branches were all askew—broken and twisted—and his leaves were beginning to dry and shrivel. I crunched through leaves and glass to Havelock, who was crouched among those branches, his hat pressed against his chest as if he were at a funeral.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning,” said Havelock softly. Then, “Tree death is so unlike human death.”

“How do you mean?”

“Theirs is a slow process. And far more beautiful.” He gently brushed a decaying leaf with the tip of a finger, so as not to dislodge it from its branch.

“Have you noticed anything new?” I asked.

“The Duke was certainly afraid of something.” Havelock gestured with his hat at a section of words spiralling across the tree’s bark.

… DARKNESS AND DARKNESS …

“Any specifics?” I asked.

“Nothing yet. I have found evidence of vandalism, however.” Havelock leaned forward and pushed a branch away, to reveal a scuffed patch of bark. “There’s another over here.” He showed me a section of the Duke’s canopy where various twigs seemed to have been snapped off. “And a third just here.” This time, it was apparent that a whole branch had been severed and smashed. “None of them correspond with the damage sustained by the Duke as he fell. Indeed—I believe that each of these is an erasure.”

“Someone has erased three of the Duke’s words?”

“Precisely. In fact—the evidence suggests that each may have been the same word. Four letters in length, repeated thrice. I have consulted Mary, and she tells me the word in question was likely to be newly grown—she had no recollection of words appearing in these specific places. If we can find the Ambassador’s missing tapestries, we will be able to confirm.” Havelock stood, and placed his hat upon his head. “A potent word, I think.”

“Potent enough to provoke murder?”

“Discovering it may prove instrumental in solving this case.”

I followed Havelock over to a metal bench, and there we sat together.

“Do you believe we will find answers with the other trees?” I asked.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I am just indulging my curiosity. I don’t know about you, Sebastian, but I want to know what the trees of Farleigh Forest have to say.”

He folded his hands over his knee, and we indulged in a shared moment of quiet companionship, alone together in the old conservatory.

“I love the sound of the rain,” I told him.

“Isn’t it lovely?”

“Are we in any rush to leave?”

“Oh, no,” said Havelock. “I think we can afford to sit here a while longer.”

We sat there and let the early morning unfold for a while, watching the rain and contemplating the Duke. It was sad to see him so fallen and crushed in the broken ruins of the conservatory. And I knew then that I badly wanted justice for him—justice for all of Farleigh, and its forest.