Installment 4, by Jacob Hanby

As our good constable turned, disturbed by the pseudo-investigator (not to mention rather flustered), he took note of an austere gentleman, Mr. Bishop by name, calmly approaching the scene. Accompanying him was a giant of a man, mysterious and mute, who seemed to be bound to the gentleman.

“I, uh, pray your pardon, sirs,” said Constable Douglas, “but we’ve a scene of investigation here. Police matters.”

“This,” answered Mr. Bishop, “is a matter of personal concern, Constable. The deceased is no stranger to me. As for you, Nigel,” addressing the vagabond who had lit the remainder of the admired leaf, “have a care. Honor the memory of our courageous captain.”

“Ah, so this dolt is under your command, eh? I’m looking to lock him up, tamperin’ with evidence and all.” Our constable feigned control, feeling reassured by the competency and command of Bishop. “Now, I’ll be needing to ask some questions of the both of you.”

“I count Nigel a friend, Constable,” answered Bishop. “You’ll accord him the respect of a gentleman,” now shooting a glance toward Nigel, “though his actions often warrant otherwise. Now, you shall hear our story. Be aware, you may find our account difficult to believe. It would do us all good to add a cup of tea into this equation. It’s half-past three, after all.”

After the constable put his deputy to caring for the scene, our company made their way into a nearby café. Now, a description of this Mr. Bishop is in order.