The poisoned chalice

sat silent. 'Well,' Benjamin asked. 'Did anyone?'
    Dacourt shuffled his feet. ‘I did. I sent him some wine, the best of last year's grapes from Bordeaux, a silver dish of sweet comfits and some marchpane.' 'When was this?' 'On the Saturday before Easter.' 'And what happened to these gifts?'
    'Good Lord!' Dacourt bellowed. 'I don't know. The Abbe Gerard was a compassionate, charitable man but one who liked his claret. I suspect he gave the comfits and marchpane to children in the village, sold the silver dish for alms and drank the wine himself. It was only a small, stoppered jar.' Dacourt's voice trailed off. 'Are you saying the wine…? But Throgmorton went down to examine the priest's corpse.' 'Oh, we didn't know that,' I interrupted.
    'Well, no,' the physician replied. 'Why should you? I went down to examine the poor priest. There was no sign of poison. The man probably swooned, fell in the water and drowned.'
    'Master Benjamin,' Peckle rose to his feet, 'Sir John, we are busy men. Do you have further questions?' 'No,' Benjamin replied crossly.
    My master was still very angry and I was intrigued for he was the most gentle of men and very rarely testy or sharp, even with fools. (I have just given my chaplain a good rap across the knuckles; that will teach him to make remarks like, 'And Master Daunbey had good knowledge of fools, having you as a servant.') Anyway, the meeting broke up, though Clinton and his manservant Venner remained seated until the rest had left the hall.
    'Tell me,' Clinton asked softly, 'this Vauban – did he know why you were in France?'
    'He said we were spies but even a child could deduce that. He also knew we were interested in the Abbe Gerard but, again, that would not require deep perception. Why do you ask, Sir Robert?' 'He never mentioned Raphael?' 'No, he didn't.'
    Clinton said, 'So, the Luciferi have still not learnt the true purpose of your mission. You see,' he leaned back in his chair, 'here in the chateau, Dacourt and the rest of his staff know you wish to catch a spy but, so far, little information has been passed to the Luciferi. Which means…' 'Which means exactly what?' I interrupted tartly.
    'That the spy here must have special means of conveying such information to his master and has so far failed to use it. If you could discover that, then perhaps we can find out who Raphael is.'
    'Nevertheless,' Benjamin answered, 'Vauban did know we were here. I think he was watching the chateau for days and followed us down to the village.'
    'Which brings us to my real point,' Clinton answered. 'Master Venner?'
    The servant looked towards the door to make sure there was no one standing there.
    'Last night,' Venner asked, 'when Waldegrave's corpse was found, did you notice Millet? He was fully dressed as if he had been out of the chateau.' 'It could have been a lovers' tryst,' I observed.
    'Perhaps,' Venner sneered. 'But Millet's tastes are obvious. He dresses like a woman, the type of tryst he keeps is best hidden under the cloak of darkness.'
    'I have raised this matter with Dacourt,' Clinton interrupted. 'He did not even know Millet was absent. I have asked him to keep the matter secret. Perhaps Millet needs to be followed.'
    Benjamin rubbed his face with his hands. 'Yes,' he observed drily. 'Millet's conduct and dress last night were suspicious. He could be the spy or his messenger.' He smiled at Clinton. 'And what you say makes sense, Sir Robert. Vauban still does not know the true nature of our mission here.' My master slapped the side of the chair. 'Of course,' he breathed, 'we have been here only a few days. We think Millet was returning. Maybe we were wrong. Perhaps he was on the point of leaving but the fracas caused by Waldegrave's death prevented him.'
    Clinton rose to his feet. 'We leave that to you, Master Daunbey. If you wish, Venner could follow him.'
    'No, no,' Benjamin replied. 'Leave Master Millet to us.'
    I watched Clinton and his manservant leave and once again the business of Agnes's death nagged at my memory. (Do you know, years ago I asked a wise man who lived in a cave outside Alexandria why this happens? Why something should trouble you, yet you are unable to place it or resolve the matter until months later? He answered that we never know what a certain piece of puzzle is until we see the rest and put the piece in place.)
    Benjamin and I stayed in the hall whilst the servants returned and finished laying the tables for supper. My master just sat staring into