Clive’s upper lip turned up into a mocking shape. “What? Did you think I did not know? Ha; you were always naïve. What I have yet to know, however, is who is up there?” Clive further inspected his flabbergasted butler.
Besides the upturned collar, there was a solitary hair in front of Dorian’s eyes. “Aha!” Clive cried, causing Dorian to jump involuntarily. “I’d say that it is a woman up there. Furthermore, I do believe it is Lord Barrington’s wife up there, seeing as she walked the dog today, despite the fact that it is raining. If I am wrong, you may shoot me. I don’t think I’m wrong.”
Dorian shook his head. “Mmm, Mr. Golding! You do have a talent for things of this nature, but I’m afraid that you were never much of a fighter. On the contrary, you are very easy to surprise.” Dorian’s smile was sour as he wielded a carving knife.
“Ah, you are right. I knew this, also, and so had arranged for certain things to become impossible!” Clive cried, taking a step toward the fireplace and knocking on the wall.