My suspicions proved to be baseless. My uncle, looking slightly more rested, but with the glossy eyes of one who has read too much, was at supper that evening. He seemes much more himself now that he no longer had the all consuming hunger of earlier, and continued the converstion from earlier. He praised my handling the corpse, only admonishing me for my callous way I had left what was a still breathing man to hunt the killer rather than staying to save the life. He was also quite vexed with my dispariging remarks about the captain and constable, as he has been known to wander to their station for an occasional game of cribbage with the chief. I of course bit back my retort, that if the chief was competent, he would play a game of skill such as chess rather than a worker’s game of chance good cards.
The duck, as it was Tuesday was delicious, the perfect amount of thyme offset the crackling skin. We never drank during supper, as it becomes too easy to fall prey to addiction when ritual is added to idleness. Instead, we drank orange spiced black tea, as Uncle always said the cloves awakened the mind and the senses. Tonight the tea seemed more refreshing, the excitemnt acting as the perfect garnish. It was with satisfaction in how I carried myself today that I went to bed. After brushing my teeth and letting down my hair, it almost felt like someone else climbing into bed. The Land of Nod called its wayward daughter home.