The News Of Pat's Death Has Been Greatly Exaggerated
I am always the first to admit a mistake, and in this particular case I am more than willing to concede that I may have made a slight error of judgment in assuming that Patrick had drowned, when it was reported to me that his ship had been lost at sea. And I will even magnanimously concede that I was not displeased to discover that he had survived the disaster more or less intact. But I will not go so far as to say that I am glad to see him back in my home, as his first act upon returning to London was to dislodge a large stone above my entrance onto his forehead and then bloody up all the sheets in his bedroom beyond any hope of using them again. Again, it must be admitted that I had a small part in this accident, having loosened the stone myself in the hopes of squashing Patrick's tiresome brother EJT, but it really is just typical of Patrick to impose himself where he is not wanted and ruin a surprise that was clearly intended for someone else.
Sean has spent the last two days running about like a mother hen, "soothing Patrick's troubled brow" (his words) and otherwise making a nuisance of himself, during which time I have been attending to man's business and sorting out our differences with the murderous EJT over a game or two of golf. As a result of this careful and exhausting diplomacy, Patrick's brother has graciously promised that he will not point his gun at us again without giving us at least a day's warning—which may at least be called progress. To be honest, EJT is actually quite a reasonable fellow despite his homicidal tendencies and maniacal religious fanaticism, and he plays a surprisingly decent game of golf.