“Who’d you say you were again?” Keenan said, frowning slightly and tilting his head to one side. There was something familiar about the man, but he couldn’t put his finger on just what it was.

The newcomer smiled. “I’m Alan Jenkins,” he said, giving Keenan a polite bow. “Once they’d heard that Master Keiran had died so tragically, the directors decided you needed a replacement.”

Keenan hesitated for a moment. Then, he nodded. “So long as you can cook, I suppose,” he said. Turning away, he called, “Have supper ready by six o’clock, please.”

“Of course,” Alan said, as he watched Keenan leave. A slow smile spread across his features. He couldn’t have planned it any better. Now, he’d have plenty of opportunity to carry out his mission.


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