They all sat calmly in the den, staring at him to speak. His hands held his writing pen and the scrap of paper he had been writing on. He look at said paper, marking off the bottom line which held the sketch of the young miss. She was the only person, aside himself, that couldn't have done any of the killings.
But she was dead, so that didn't seem to matter.
From the information he had been told, she would have had to have been prompted to open the door, as well as have the deceased butler open the door from the other side. There was honestly no way for the young miss to have hurt anyone.
He opened his mouth slowly, "As a result of my conversations with everyone, many things have become clear, however," He paused and looked up, "The thing I'm most stuck on is the whereabouts of the key to the Earl's room. According to the original scenario, the only one that could have been able to kill Mr. Phelps was Sebastian. But if we consider that the key could have been passed on to a third party, it becomes a whole different situation."
Ceil Phantomhive spoke up, "So in that scenario, I would be right in thinking that the person who currently holds the key and killed Sebastian is the criminal?"
"Yes." He nodded.
He chattered out the next words, giving idle orders, expecting nothing more than rejection of them. He didn't get rejection aside one, who was quickly put into line. It was quickly agreed that they were to move down to the basement, those who agreed to go, and look for the key.
The wordsmith honestly wasn't surprised not finding the key on the butler.
"It's not here, huh?" The young Phantomhive called quietly.
"Could it be in his bedroom?" He asked, moving his hands to re button the front of Sebastian's shirt.
"Let's go look."
And, they did, their short journey echoing in dead silence.
The cook opened the door, swinging it wide and stepping inside. "This is Sebastian's room."
"It's pretty spacious," The wordsmith noted.
"It's because he's a senior servant."
Stepping forward, Ceil asked, "Can't you guys think of a place where he might have hidden it?"
"Actually, it's our first time in here…." The cook admitted, holding his neck.
"I've only been in here twice since I gave him this room as well." Phantomhive commented quietly.
"In any case, let's search in places on might keep valuables." The Queen's servant mentioned, turning to scour the room.
He knew he wasn't the only one who noticed several items that could, in no way, belong to the butler. Pairs of gloves that were too small, several uniforms hung on a hook in the farthest corner that were fitted to someone else.
Indeed the young miss had been staying in the room.
But the wordsmith stayed quiet, following the example from those of the Phantomhive manor. They were pretty much excusing any and everything that would signify that another person had been spending time within the room.
When no luck came, they spent the rest of the day going through other's luggage.
He heard about an intruder later, but yet again, he didn't pay much heed.
To be completely honest, his mind only wandered to the coincidences that had wondered the Phantomhive halls. Days passed. Arrests were made. Yet no feelings were waived.
Something was still off.
His legs burned as he rose up the steps, and his arms ached as he pulled open the front doors roughly. His breath was heavy as he found Pastor Jeremy and Ceil both staring down at him from the stairs.
"Why so flustered," The supposed pastor smirked, "Did you forget something?"
He took a breath, "I came back to confirm the truth, Pastor Jeremy, no…"
That's right, this was what was off.
"Butler Sebastian."
"Excellent. It seems we underestimated you a little."
His face fell, eyes widening.
"Pastor Jeremy" lifted his hand to his face, grabbing onto it gently, "Or wouldn't I be more likely to say, 'It appears that we have rudely underestimated you, sir'?"
And Jeremy's face began to peel, stretching eagerly from the features lying beneath it.
"Mr. Wordsmith?"
§
Sebastian reached for the tea pot.
It was identical to that of which had broken when the Young Miss had been… He continued forward, straining the tea.
"Today I prepared you Fortnum and Mason's Darjeeling second Flush." He spoke quietly, finishing the tea. It was unfortunate that the Young Master would have to deal with his tea, "For snacks I have petit fours."
The chinaware was silent as he placed it on the table for the Young Master and the Wordsmith.
"We haven't poisoned it, so please help yourself." The young Phantomhive spoke with a smirk, "So, how did you know that he was alive, Mr. Wordsmith?"
Sebastian watched the wordsmith talk, his mouth moving and he idly heard what the smith was talking about. He wouldn't lie and say that how he knew, or felt, that he was alive held no importance to him.
"To think you'd come to believe this and return after just those words," Sebastian's face rose in a smile, his hands coming to his face, "You're all one would expect from someone who earned the young master's praise."
This earned an irritated, "Stop saying such unnecessary things."
Sebastian ignored the somewhat pleading hope that he would hear a small chuckle from a young miss.
"And? What part of me made you think so," He continued, plastering a smile on his face.
"Once, was at the time of Lord Seimen's death." The Wordsmith called. "At that time you weren't doing anything but observing our movements. We're talking about the person who acted so swiftly during the evening party here. When I think of it now, I can't help but think there had to be a reason."
Sebastian let his hand fall to his side again.
"Then when the Earl was suspected, you didn't utter a single word in his defense. For a butler not to protect his master even a little is strange."
He heard the young Master sigh.
"Didn't you know…? That the suspicions of the earl would be lifted as soon as the next murder occurred."
Sebastian gave a small chuckle, "Of course, I realized this."
"So you really-"
"However, that wasn't the reason I didn't protect the Young Master."
He earned a confused remark from the smith and an annoyed one from the young Phantomhive.
"You probably thought it served me right, didn't you?"
"Not at all? I was just taken aback at how, while you predicted that something would probably be set up, you quickly gave into sleep, and I was left to take care of the mess."
"W-wait a second! By predicting you mean-"
Sebastian plucked up the tea pot, quickly pouring yet another cup of the auburn liquid into the Young Master's cup. "We knew beforehand that here was a person mixed up in the dinner party that wanted to torment the Young Master."
"You mean…. You predicted that this incident would occur?!"
"Indeed. We also predicted that Master Seimens would probably be made a sacrifice for it." Sebastian handed the cup back. "And that I would be killed."
He wasn't surprised with the confused reaction he'd received from the smith.
It was time for the mystery's reveal, he mused calmly.