10,000 wax seals. 24 days. One thief to catch before Christmas Eve.
Dear Detective,
I am the postmistress of Ashbury, and I have never in forty years written a letter like this one.
Every Christmas since 1840, the children of this village have posted their letters to Father Christmas at my counter, and every one of them is closed with the Christmas Seal — a little silver seal with a sprig of holly on it, older than anyone in the village. The children believe it is the seal that carries their letters all the way to the North Pole. I have never had the heart to tell them otherwise.
This morning, the glass case on my counter was empty. The velvet box was open. And in the case lay a folded note, closed with a stranger’s red wax seal: “It is safe. Do not be afraid. — A friend of Ashbury.”
I broke that seal myself to read the note, and the wax crumbled in my clumsy fingers. Then the note went from hand to hand all morning, as things do in a small village, and by noon it had vanished altogether. All that is left of it now is what people remember.
The Wax Office keeps a catalogue of every seal in the county — ten thousand of them. One of those ten thousand closed that note. I am told you are very good at this sort of thing.
You have twenty-four days. On Christmas Eve, the children bring their letters.
From the 1st to the 24th of December, someone in Ashbury remembers one detail of the thief’s seal: its shape, its rim, its emblem, its drips, its number. On Sundays you study a piece of evidence instead.
Turn to the Wax Catalogue and cross out every seal that doesn’t match. Some clues clear whole pages at once. Others come down to a single drip of wax.
Every day tells you how many seals should be left. On Christmas Eve, one remains: bring its number here. Two people in Ashbury lie, so read carefully.
Six seals from the Christmas catalogue. Every seal has a shape, a rim, an emblem, an initial, drips of wax, a crack or none, and a catalogue number. No two are alike.
Pick a day and write how many seals you have left.
The ending isn’t printed in the book. Write the number of your last seal below and the Wax Office will check its register. If you are right, you will read the rest of the story.
Leave your address and the Wax Office will write when the next Tinta & Lacre mystery is ready. No more than one letter a month.
Yes. The catalogue was generated and checked by computer: there are exactly 10,000 different seals, and only one fits all twenty-four days of clues.
Go back to the last day where your count was right and check that clue again. The Detective’s Desk above can check every count for you. The most common slips are drips (count the round drops below the seal) and the crack (a broken line across the upper left).
Yes, read them in order. Two people in Ashbury say something untrue, and the next day always tells you so. You can play one day at a time like an Advent calendar, or all 24 days in one cozy evening.
So nobody can guess their way to the ending. A detective names one seal, not twenty. The limit only applies after a wrong report, and only on this device.
The back of the book has a sealed hint for every day, written in mirror writing. The Detective’s Desk on this page has three levels of hints for every day too.