“This is excellent work,” said Inspector Withersby, neatly folding his glasses into their case and placing them in his inner jacket pocket. “But this painting is a forgery nonetheless!”
The guests were aghast. A chorus of ‘wot-wot-wots’ rose like motes on the sunbeams streaming in through the drawing room drapes. The servant’s faces blanched. Mrs. Drudgery gasped. Major Barneswing harrumphed as his monocle popped into his glass of sherry.
Across the room, Yao Yang began slow clapping. Heads turned and a sudden expulsion of disbelief also expulsed Mrs. Drake’s false teeth to the Persian carpet, while, across the room, the Persian cat yowled in fury and scuttled to a safer perch behind the couch.
“Well, Mr. Yao Yang,” said the Inspector. “We meet again.”
Yao Yang smiled and bowed deeply. Mimsy Penchant huffed as Clive Hornsby chuffed while – anxious to avoid eavesdropping – the maid took the silverware and buffed.
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Yao Yang hissed and threw a smoke bomb and disappeared. The guests swooned; had the villain disappeared!
But no! Three constables brought in a struggling Yao Yang from the servants door, through which he had tried to escape. “No escape today, Yao Yang…” said the Inspector, pulling off the forger’s face for the big reveal. “Or should I say… Felicity Bottoms?”
Miss Thrush fainted away into the Vicar’s arms as Felicity stole a kiss from the Inspector. “Why won’t you love me?” she whispered in his ear.
“Because I love art more,” he said, before they carted her away.