Chapter Eleven
Well, what a turn up fer the books! Mysteries upon mysteries, an’ a maddenin’ mess it were becomin’. Eleanor Phelps, o’ Tilby? Marjorie Bamber? I knew no such folk.
Thas not t’ say they weren’t there, mind. I make it me business t’ learn as much as I can about the folk o’ Tilby, but I can’t know everythin’ — especially if someone’s going’ t’ some trouble t’ pass unnoticed. An’ mayhap they had good enough reason t’ do that.
Well, I took Phineas wi’ me an’ off we went t’ catch a coach, straightaway-like. In the meanwhile, unbeknownst t’ us at the time, poor Ilsevel were still lost in Winter’s Hollow — an’ learnin’ a deal of interestin’ things, herself.
Gloswise, to Ilsevel’s amazement, turned out to be human, or perhaps half human. She was a small woman with faded red hair
