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I burst through the door of Reverend Martin’s study.  He sat up, startled.  “Did you take care of it, Mr. Bouton?” he asked.

I lit up a smoke and smirked.  “I found out the truth, if that’s what you mean,” I answered.  “You didn’t tell me the whole story.”  He stammered as I produced some clothesline I had snatched from the backyard.  I walked behind his desk to where he continued to spew denials of his malfeasance.  “Relax,” I deadpanned, “Felicity’s not going to be any trouble.  It’s all taken care off.”  He seemed to melt into the chair as I explained. 

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