“Of course not, dear fellow,” I answer with some joviality, for this chap does bring me a great amount of amusement, “I would be delighted.”
“OOOOOOOOOh” twitters the man, his beaming features aglow with merriment. A tight little mischievous and impish smile pushes his dimples so high they threaten to surmount his eyes. “this is a little gift of a personal nature, but I have a hunch that it is just the thing you need and want.”
“Why Manlington, what on Earth could you have? … Hah! A pipe! Thank you my friend, this shall be the start of a small collection, perhaps.”
The house matron, Mrs. SaurSkowlle, continues to look upon the household staff with disapproval. She of whom I firmly believe that being cross with the household is her greatest joy, insists on wearing a face of lemon-assisted sourness.
“Do you not have some deep, dark secret that you wish to share with our little commune, Mrs. SaurSkowlle?”
“What? Who? Me? Oh, no! Not me. That is unless you count the wildly wanton, passionate love affair in which Manlington and I indulge on occasion.”
In contrast to the relaxed and happy people around them, there is still one unhappy pair of people.
“Oh, Eh-wic, wot will become of us? We are wuined!”
“Bup, bup, bup. There, there, my Blythe, we shall endure, somehow. We have been penniless for a year now, struggling to maintain appearances. In that time, you have learned how to stretch one turnip into a week of interesting meals.”
“Oh, Eh-wic, yew have been so stalwart in your efforts to maintain our dignity. Oi don’t knows ‘ow you gets our laundry so swells.”
“Am I correct that you and the Colonel are skilled at cooking and laundry?” asks Miss Plumtartt. “As it is, we may have a couple of positions opening, that is, if Condolescence does not mind helping Mr. RooksPawn in the stables and becoming our new footgirl?”
“Huh, huh, huh! That would be marvey! Oi loikes horsies! Huh, huh, huh. An’ widin’ awound on deh back of deh keh-widge wiffuh woaded pistol, will be fun! Huh, huh, huh!”
“Excuse me please, Miss Plumtartt, but weren’t we followed by a singular cyclist on the Ill-Begotten ByeWay?”
“Indeed we were, Mr. Temperance.”
“Oh, that was me, I’m afraid.” Blythe Cleese appears rather sheepish. “I was curious as to what you two were up to when you came to visit us. I have a background in theater and I quickly donned a gentleman’s false beard as a hasty disguise and followed you on the bicycle.”
“Splendid!” I shout. “There is just one more thing that preys upon me. This ghostly ‘Barrow Bride’. I am loath to admit this, but I actually saw the apparition myself.”
“Yoo, hoo. That was me again,” admits a coquettish Manlington. “Dancing on the moor in a wedding dress at night is just a harmless little compulsion of mine.”
The Temperance fellow stands up and calls for everyone’s attention.
“Folks, I think it was a real stroke of providential good fortune that allowed us to come into contact, and to form a relationship, with this man.” He indicates me with a short sweep of his hand. “He is one of the finest people to ever walk our planet. Come on everybody, let me hear you, who is the greatest detective of this, any, and for all time?”
In a great, loud, clear voice, all the assembled participants call out my name in a joyous and united chorus followed by enthusiastic applause.
I am humbled at the warmth and fondness of these many people. Perhaps a little notoriety could invigorate my career. Maybe it will be my destiny to fulfill some enduring and infamous role in history as concerns the investigative arts. I can only hope to be involved with more such cases as this Plumtartt affair.
This Temperance chap has not really been such a bad sort of fellow. Having a reliable partner such as he, has been an unexpected source of strength for me. In fact, in the future, I may want to have an associate to share in my challenges of detection and deduction. Maybe he will even be good enough to chronicle one or two of the more interesting cases on my behalf.
“I say, Temperance?” He looks up at the sound of my voice calling his name and quickly trots over to me.
“Yessir?”
“You intrigue me, good man, may I ask, what is your level of education and schooling?”
“Why it’s elementary, sir.”
The End.
Afterword
Thank you, my friends, for sharing in our adventures.
Cheers!
Your pal,
~Ichabod.
P.S. Read Elyodnanocruhtraris backwards and see who appears!
The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance
A Matter of Temperance
(Volume One of The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance)
A World of InTemperance
(Volume Two of The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance)
For the Love of Temperance
(Volume Three of The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance)
A Study in Temperance
(Volume Four of The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance)
In a Latitude of Temperance
(Volume Five of The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance)
The Measure of Temperance
(Volume Six of The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance)
The Seventh Voyage of Temperance
(Volume Seven of The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance)
The Title of Temperance
(Volume Eight of The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance)
available in print and for Amazon Kindle at Amazon.com and Createspace.com
A Study in Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 4) Page 23
