"'Ere..." the man begun, brandishing his gun.
"Yes, it's a gun," Sir Richard sighed wearily. "I think it's got a longer name, but I can't remember it right now. Suffice it to say, the thing goes bang and kills people." The elderly squire shook his head, a bantering look in his blue eyes. "But they are a little bit boring. I mean, you point them at someone and they have a terrible tendency to end all conversation. Of course, Freud would have told you that there was an explanation for why people carry them, but I can't tell you, seeing that there is a lady present."
The man looked at Sir Richard in mute incomprehension. His gun wavered for a moment, as he tried to understand what the elegant gentleman was saying.
Ms. Madison took the opportunity to mick the man's hand. He cried out, hanging onto the gun. Ms. Madison de;livered a straight left to the man's jaw, before grabbing the man's wrist and smashing his hand against a wall until the man dropped the gun, his hand a bloody mess.
"Jolly good," Sir Richard smiled gently. "Now that the nasty gun's gone away we can have a proper conversation. "Who sent you?"
"I won't tell you!" the man screamed, going pale.
"That means it's a really big baddie," Sir Richard spoke to Ms. Madison. "Do you think it might be the Grey Tabby? I mean, he hasn't shown his dear old whiskers in a while, has he? In fact," Sir Richard looked back at the man, "the way he's looking now, it seems that I was right. Where were you hired?"
"I won't tell!" The man raised his voice in panic.
"Then I'll take you somewhere and introduce you to my charmingly violent daughter," Sir Richard's voice was a languid drawl. "After a little while, you'll tell her. Probably while you pick up your teeth." He smiled worryingly.
"Trefechan!" the man yelled. "I met the Grey Tabby in a pub in Trefechan! I think his Headquarters is there somewhere!"