The Otter met Reepicheep and Everbright as they were crossing the open fields on their way back to the Valaros farmhouse after visiting Oakapple. He looked anxious and uncomfortable.

"Sir," he said, "am I to understand that you are investigating the Dryad's murder? You've been talking to the Great Willow and to Oakapple, and I suppose you've been talking to the people up at the stone house as well."

Reepicheep hadn't really thought about it that way, but he supposed that, after all, that was exactly what he was doing. It would be a good thing to be able to lay out the whole case before Caspian's Intermediary.

"There's nothing to worry about, Mr. Otter," said Everbright. "My Master will find the monster who killed the Dryad and make short work of him, never fear!"

The Otter only looked more worried at that. He glanced around, then dropped to a crouch in the long grass and beckoned the two over. "I think I have an idea who did it," he said unhappily. "I'm afraid ... I think it was the Great Willow."

"The Great Willow!" exclaimed Reepicheep. "I would have thought her the least likely... Oh, do settle down, Everbright. Hold your snout until we're done. Otter, why do you think she did it?"

"The downriver glen Willow was friendly with the Telmarines. At least, she was friendly with the younger one - Albian. She made him promises about moving; and of course, if one Willow says it, that means all the Willows said it. The Great Willow was very unhappy to find that she might ever have said such a thing. She doesn't want to move, you see. She's gotten used to where she is and who she is; she's not like the downriver glen Willow, who's really very young and doesn't quite understand what 'moving' means."

Reepicheep motioned to Everbright to stay quiet a little longer, and digested this new information. "Albian does seem like the friendlier of the two. Even so, he struck me as a man who does not care much for us Old Narnians."

"He got along all right with the downriver glen Willow. I've seen them talking on more than one occasion. They even exchanged presents, just a few days ago. She gave him a garland that she'd woven from her own hair, and he gave her ... something shiny. A necklace of some sort. I couldn't see it very well from where I was in the river, but I think it was silver from the way it flashed white in the sunlight."

"You were spying on them, were you?"

"We Otters live and play in the river, and the Willows take no notice of us. It's not my fault if the Sons of Adam take no notice of me either. I certainly wasn't trying to hide myself."

Reepicheep nodded. He'd done much the same thing just the night before, and could not criticise the Otter now. He asked: "Did you hear what they said?"

"I wasn't paying much attention, but I think ... yes ... she had said something about being a different Willow if she moved, and he said that if she kept the necklace and wore it around her neck, or on one of her branches, he would always know who she was. He said it was the seal of his family on the promises they'd made. He put it around her neck for her, and the Great Willow was furious when she saw it later. She said that it was a collar such as men put on dogs, and not a thing any Tree should be proud to own."

Reepicheep could imagine that there would be more than a little personal shame in the Great Willow's reaction. After all, by accepting Albian's gift, the young Willow had done so on behalf of all the Willows of the region, and it would be as if every Willow had accepted it. He had the idea that most Trees simply shrugged and reorganised their ideas to accommodate whatever one of their brothers or sisters had said. But the Great Willow had grown old enough to form decided, immutable opinions; and a Tree with decided views against making peace with the Telmarines would be horrified to learn that, as far as she was concerned, she herself had done exactly that. He imagined that it would be as if he had lost control of his own tail, and his tail had done some cowardly, undignified thing. Why then ... would he not take steps to bring his tail under control?

Would the Great Willow have taken steps to silence this other Willow who was, in the way of Trees, putting unwelcome words in her mouth?

"I should take a look at this necklace," said Reepicheep, getting to his feet and turning back towards the downriver glen. "I wonder what Albian would say when confronted with it. I wonder what his father would say."

"That's just it." The Otter's agitation mounted. "It's gone. I know that the young Willow didn't remove it even when the Great Willow scolded her; but it's nowhere to be found. I was the one who found her, you know, and I'll swear that it wasn't there then, either."

"Not even among the branches of her Tree?"

The Otter shook his head.

"Well, it can't have gone far." Reepicheep imagined the Great Willow racing back to her Tree after doing the deed, and flinging the offensive necklace out into the river as far as she could. "Search the river, downstream from the Great Willow. If what you tell me is true, it will probably be somewhere there."

"Yes, sir. Right away." The Otter saluted, and raced off to do as he was told.

Reepicheep waited until the Otter had gone before telling Everbright to let go of his snout, which he did with an exaggerated sigh. "But it can't be the Great Willow," Everbright exclaimed at once. "She's too nice! She had a soft bed of grass all ready for us, and she wasn't mean at all! And she doesn't have teeth like iron spikes or claws or tusks that breathe fire or eyes that drip poison or anything like that."

"Everbright, please settle down."

"I don't want to believe Mr. Otter," Everbright whined.

"I'm not believing everything right away just because a Beast says so. For one thing, if Mr. Otter is telling the truth, then Albian and the young Willow were friends; and Albian certainly didn't act like someone who'd just lost a friend, last night." But then, Reepicheep remembered, he had only ever seen Albian while in the company of Lord Valaros; and Albian was hardly likely to reveal such a thing in the presence of a father like Valaros, who wanted nothing to do with Dryads and their sort. Reepicheep went over the memory of the previous night's dinner carefully. He hadn't exchanged more than a few polite words with Albian, he recalled: he had spoken mostly to Valaros and Thriftkin. He remembered Albian laughing at something Everbright had told him, but then Everbright was a clown of the first order; and Reepicheep himself had been too occupied with business to know just what Everbright had told Albian.

Albian could be a very good actor; or else he could be a very brave stoic. Why on earth would the Otter lie about something like this? Could he have simply been mistaken as to the nature of Albian's relationship with the young Willow?

Approaching the Valaros farmhouse, they found Thriftkin standing in the bright, sunlit yard, examining something in his hands. Everbright saw it before Reepicheep did, and dashed up to the old half-Dwarf. "Shiny!" he cried.

Thriftkin absently patted Everbright on the head and waved to Reepicheep. In his other hand, a silver medallion dangled; its front was engraved with the Valaros family seal, and its flat back flashed white in the sunlight.