Now, I must tell you about Tabitha Cat.

Tabitha runs the Tea Room on Cobble Lane. She bakes before sunrise, keeps her recipes in a blue notebook with a clasp, and is unfailingly warm to everyone in Willowburrow.

She does not feed the ferrets. She has said so many times.

On the morning of the Biscuit Tin Incident, Tabitha opened her door to find that her window sill tin — the decorative one, the shortbread one — was gone.

She stood in the doorway for a moment. Then she put the kettle on. This is what Tabitha does when things go wrong.

Robin Redbreast had the story before the kettle boiled.

"BREAKING," he announced from the rooftop. "Tea Room TARGETED. Beloved biscuit tin MISSING. Willowburrow holds its breath. More to follow. Please share."

Constable Badger arrived with his notebook and examined the sill with professional thoroughness. Then he looked at Pip and Whisker Ferret, who were sitting on the pavement below, eating biscuits.

"Where did you obtain those?" he asked.

"Tabitha," said Pip.

"The step," said Whisker. "For the sparrows."

Constable Badger wrote this down.

I, Benji, noticed what no one else did: on the drainpipe beside the window, fresh claw marks and a trace of pine resin. Marlo had been up there before dawn. Not for the biscuits — Marlo doesn't care for biscuits. For the tin. It was a good tin. Flat lid. Satisfying clasp.

Marlo is, among other things, a collector.

He was long gone before anyone thought to look.

Tabitha came out at mid-morning with a fresh plate.

"For the sparrows," she said, setting it on the step.

Constable Badger had not yet left. He had been writing very slowly in his notebook. Taking considerable time over his final observations.