“You’re probably bewildered as to why I’m gathered here. In short,
that is to say, in summary, I put it to all of you on equal, if not
harmonious, footing, that the murderer is about to be revealed by none
other than me, yours truly, speak name here … Wait, sorry, I’ll go again
from ‘yours truly’ … yours truly, Detective Inspector Sir Reverend
Urquhar Peabody, BFD.
Firstly, concerning the sheep, I realized at once that the
handwriting on the critical note could not have been forged by a
ruminant, of whatever breeding and erudition, notwithstanding.
Second, the footprint in the bacon grease spread on the parlor floor
was not a footprint at all, necessarily. It might have been, and in fact
was, a cry for help.
Thirdly, and I cannot emphasize this, so I won’t.
Fourthly and fifth, why, you ask, am I holding a turkey leg between
my knees? Am I making you nervous, MISTER ALFRED CARBUNCLE!?”
“All right! All right! I confess! I did it! Guns, ammo, cheese and
everything! I can’t take any more, I tell you! I can’t! I can’t!
HAHAHAHAHA!!”