I find it difficult to decide exactly where to start this story, but I chose a Wednesday, at lunchtime in the presbytery. Although the conversation was mostly unrelated to the matter at hand, it contained one or two characteristic events that influenced later developments.
I had just cut the boiled beef (particularly tough, by the way) and when I took my seat again, I noticed, with a spirit completely out of place with my attire, that whoever murdered Colonel Prodero would do the world a great favor in general.
My young nephew Dennis immediately said, "They will use that against you when they find the old friend covered in blood. Mary will testify, won’t she, Mary? And she will describe how vindictively you were brandishing the kitchen knife." Mary, who works as a servant in the presbytery as the first step towards better things and higher wages, simply said in a loud, professional voice: "Your vegetables," and threw a cracked plate at him irritably.
My wife said in a sympathetic voice, "Has he become very tiresome?" I did not answer immediately, because Mary, having left the vegetables on the table with a bang, shoved under my nose a platter with particularly fresh and unpleasant meat pies. I said "No, thank you," and she left the platter on the table with a clatter and left the room.