I approached the cur’s abode ’pon this very noonstide (for that is when the day is brightest, and all the better to espy villainry). Darting gracefully through his admittedly well-trimmed garden, I approached the door of his manner with naught but the haughty and dignified manner possessed only by a Fine Gentleman of Some Authority. I rapped on the door with considerable force.

Given my current possession of the Turton Green Award for Exemplary Robustitude, this was unsurprising.

A lone maid opened the heavy oaken door. She was in a state of noteworthy dishevelment, and bleeding profusely from an unnamed orifice.

“Sir! I am become almost entirely plundered by my own Lord and Master!”

From the shadowy depths within, a cackle!

“Confound it!” cried I. “The Dapper Hand!”

Doffing my hat at the unfortunate damsel, I proceeded onwards to face the horrors which awaited.