Benedict found Charles in the living room looking thoughtfully out of their seventh floor window.
"It sounds to me like someone has quite a grudge against our dashing Mr Dunston," he announced as Benedict entered the room.
"I know,” Benedict agreed. “But whom? He's such an affable old gentleman, who would want to harm him?"
"Possibly there’s someone from his past?" Charles pondered. “Maybe there's some truth in one or two of his more outlandish anecdotes."
"What? That he was a fighter pilot in the First World War? I don't think so Charles, he's far too young. Maybe he's old enough to have been in the Second World War."
"He does like a yarn does our Henry,” Charles agreed, “but I was thinking more about the special agent thing."
"I just don't buy it Charles,” Benedict said, thoughtfully slowly shaking his head. “Spy, astronaut, adventurer, it all sounds a bit farfetched to me. I’ll tell you something though Charles; he's being cagey about something.”
"I know, he's not telling us the whole truth,” Charles agreed. “Let’s get the irregulars onto it."
"The irregulars?" Benedict asked, somewhat confused.
"Mary and Christina of course," Charles explained impatiently.
"Oh, you mean the rest of the neighborhood watch.”