Surveillance is Tiring

Me: Look at Dave. He’s fallen asleep between my chair and the sofa.

Nell: He’s supposed to be on Surveillance Duty.

Me: I don’t need surveying. Harriet is literally sitting on me.

Nell: It’s not about you.

Me: Good.

Nell: David is supposed to be keeping a close eye on the Veiled Corgi, who’s not outside, by the way, so I don’t know why he’s looking out of the window.

Me: I know. I saw Rupert drive away with her in his sidecar earlier this morning.

Nell: You can’t have done.

Me: Why?

Nell: She’s having Eggs Benedict in the kitchen.

Me: Very posh.

Nell: That’s not the point.

Me: No.

Nell: You must have seen another veiled animal.

Me: I know a Veiled Corgi when I see one, which isn’t something I ever expected to say.

Nell: It might have been a Bichon Frise.

Me: It was definitely her. Rupert lifted her gently into the sidecar and drove off.

Nell: I don’t understand.

Me: It’s easy. There must be two of them.

Nell: Clever.

Me: Thank you.

Nell: Not you. The Veiled Corgis. They’re obviously working together.

Me: And Knitwear Wolf?

Nell: That’s harder to accept.

Me: Have you ever considered they might just be grieving?

Nell: Nobody asks for Eggs Benedict when they’re grieving.

Me: It’s not the most obvious choice of egg, I agree.

Nell: I’m afraid we’re going to have to move to Phase Two.

Me: What’s that?

Nell: Removing the Veil and I know just the animal to do it.

Me: Manuel? He has the tentacles for it.

Nell: No. David.

Me: My darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy?

Nell: Yes. He can steal a tea towel from someone’s shoulder without them noticing.

Me: True.

Nell: So a veil should be no problem.

Me: Right. Sorry.

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