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"'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."
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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?"
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"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!"
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