Landlord : There’s a message for you here in the pigeon hole. It’s from a Sir Graham Forbes – he says he’s traced the call to the restaurant as you requested and it was made from Brent Towers.

Steve : But that was the telephone call taken by Mr Devine which he told us was a wrong number. Now it turns out it came from the house of the person he was asking you to investigate the disappearance of.

Landlord : Does she always do that?

Temple : By Timothy, Steve, you’re right.

Steve : But Paul, what can it mean?

Temple : I think it means that this Dennis Affair has become even more complicated than it was before!

Temple : Where did you say Wicks and Grantham’s cottage was?

Steve : It should be just a bit further up this dark and sinister country lane.

Temple : I can’t see anything.

Temple : Get down, Steve.

Steve : What was it?

Temple : It sounded like a gun shot. Look – there’s a man running off.

Steve : Yes, Paul, it’s suddenly become a bit lighter outside. Can you see his face?

Temple : No – he’s wearing a scarf.

Steve : Do you think it was someone trying to scare us off?

Temple : That’s precisely what I believe.

Steve : Do you think that man was Alan – the blackmailer who murdered Dennis Brent?

Temple : Either it was Alan or someone working for Alan. Come on, Steve, we’ll find the cottage on foot. You look as if you need a glass of brandy and I know I do!

Wicks : Can we help you? We were in the middle of a game of pin the tail on Michael Grade’s face.

Temple : My name is Temple and this is my wife, Steve.

Grantham : But Steve is a man’s name. You are married to a woman with a man’s name. We’re confused.

Temple : Were you friends of a man called Dennis Brent?

Wicks : THE Dennis Brent?

Temple : You know of more than one?

Wicks : No. Just checking. We are aware of Dennis Brent.

Grantham : He has occasionally dined with us.

Wicks : And we may have bumped into him once or twice at social events.

Temple : We believe he is dead. And he has named both of you in his will.

Wicks : Bless dear Dennis – he was one of a kind.

Grantham : We won’t see his sort again. A prince amongst men.

Wicks : A man of impeccable sensibleness.

Grantham : A positive inspiration to us all.

Wicks : Is it cash or goods of equivalent value?

Grantham : Do we get a share each or have we been lumped together as usual?

Wicks : I do so hate being lumped together with Grantham. Well, most of the time anyway.

Grantham : Has anyone put in a bid for his cryogenic unit? I hear he’s got some fascinatingly rare peop… items in there.

Temple : Look, I’ve not seen the will – I’m here to investigate his murder. I’d like to start out by getting a few details about the pair of you. Starting with your full names.

Wicks : I am Wicks.

Grantham : And I am Grantham.

Temple : Don’t you have Christian names?

Wicks : Well…

Grantham : …we prefer to be like Madonna.

Wicks : Or Cher.

Grantham : Or Liberace.

Wicks : And only use one name.

Temple : If you wouldn’t mind – I am here on behalf of Scotland Yard.

Grantham : Oh very well. My name is Montgomery Claiborne Periwinkle Grantham.

Wicks : And I am Jeff Wicks.

Temple : Did you murder Dennis Brent?

Grantham : Certainly not. We don’t put our hands on other men’s bodies – that would be a very h-o-m-o-s-e-x-u-a-l thing to do.

Wicks : We certainly would never bludgeon a sensible man like Dennis Brent about the head with a blunt object.

Temple : How did you know he had been bludgeoned about the head with a blunt object?

Wicks : Er… you said so.

Temple : No – I said he’d been murdered.

Wicks : Funny – it must just have been my imagination. For some reason you mentioning Dennis Brent made me think about bludgeoning him about the head with a blunt object.

Temple : Can you account for your movements?

Wicks : We were here all night…

Grantham : …and we didn’t get back until gone eleven o’clock…

Wicks : …because the clock was striking twelve…

Grantham : …we watched a lengthy documentary on an improving channel from tea time until bedtime…

Wicks : …that was the night I was at the bedside of my sick mother…

Grantham : …although I quite like to walk alone in the dark.

Temple : Did you get all that down, Steve?

Steve : Of course, dear!

Temple : Excellent. Well gentlemen I think we’ve heard enough.

Grantham : You wouldn’t care to stay for a cup of tea.

Temple : I think we should be getting back to the pub – it’s getting late.

Grantham : That’s what I said – you wouldn’t care to stay for a cup of tea.

Temple : Good night, gentlemen.

Grantham : Good night.

Wicks : Sleep tight.

(a short time passes)

Steve : I can’t say I care much for those two – they seemed decidedly queer.

Temple : Queer is the very word I was going to use.

Steve : I wonder why two men share a small cottage together – don’t they have wives?

Temple : It’s a mystery, Steve.

Steve : Oh no – not another one!

Temple : Good evening, landlord. Any messages?

Landlord : Just the one sir – a Sir Graham Forbes said he’d be waiting upstairs in your bedroom for you. I told him I didn’t think you were that way inclined but he insisted. Would Mrs Temple care for me to lay on some entertainment downstairs while you and Sir Graham get stuck in?

Temple : Thank you, no. My wife and Sir Graham are well acquainted.

Landlord : Good heavens. We haven’t had swingers at this hotel since the Church of England held a rally near the bandstand.

Sir Graham : Ah Temple – I have urgent news.

Temple : Well?

Sir Graham : About an hour ago a man stumbled into Bendaton’s police station. He seemed incoherent but the constable on duty recognised him.

Temple : Well, Sir Graham? Don’t keep us in suspense – my wife is a woman and therefore constitutionally weak.