Charles and Alex were alone with large glasses of brandy, sat either side of the fireplace in Charles’ study. They had a raging fire going and it was safe to say, that their hair was drunk.

“So you’re telling me, that you think that he was the man, that collared us at that cafe in the first war? If I didn’t know you better Charles, I’d think that the stress of the last few days had got to you.” Alex said, focusing on his cousin through the one eye he could keep open.

“Pah! He should count himself lucky that my brother pulled me off him before I could do any real damage.The bloody cheek of turning up at my wife’s funeral after he bally murdered her! The bloody police were no use, I called Inspector Deacon at home, but his damn wife wouldn’t put him on the phone. She said I was drunk!”

“Charles you were, I mean, we were and are, absolutely bloody sozzled. I think we need to re-examine this once the dust and headaches have settled down tomorrow. Come on, I’m going to bed.” He stood, throwing his brandy, glass and all, into the fire.