The Case of the Mysterious Breakfast

This morning, Grand Duke Irwin-Amadeus II awoke to discover a silver tray at the foot of his bed. The tray held a hot pot of dark roast coffee, a small pitcher of cream, a matching bowl of sugar, a soft boiled egg in an eggcup, two pieces of hot toast on a plate, a pot of gooseberry preserves -- the Grand Duke’s favorite -- and a place setting of the grand ducal silver arrayed around the plate along with a linen napkin, displaying the Stollenian coat of arms embroidered on one corner.

The ravenously hungry Irwin Amadeus was thrilled and later thanked Hives for his prompt attention to breakfast before he set about eating it. However, Hives informed his master that he had nothing whatsoever to do with the meal, which was mysteriously prepared and left in the grand ducal chambers before the valet stirred from his bed.

Hives next handed his master a note, which apparently accompanied the breakfast tray. It reads:

I am so pleased that you liked the hunting dogs. Max and Moritz will keep your feet toasty warm this winter. Until we meet again. . .

Yours,

Fräulein von Y

Strangely, Max and Moritz slept undisturbed on the foot of Irwin-Amadeus II’s bed and did not raise the alarm when the mysterious breakfast was delivered. Needless to say, Irwin-Amadeus II and Hives are rather puzzled by the stealthy arrival of the meal and the overly familiar tone of the note with it. Just who IS the mysterious breakfast bringer? How did she enter the Grand Duke’s chambers unannounced and unobserved? From which royal house in apocryphal 18^th century Europe does she hail? And when will she strike again? The whole situation is, to borrow Hives words, “Perpetually perplexing, Sir.”