He walked back to the sofa and sat down. ‘Beautiful. Now come to me, pet.’ ‘Yes, your Grace.’ ‘Tonight, pet, you may call me Sir, or my lord... You may relase the title.’ ‘Thank you, your Gr- my lord,’ she said in a trembling voice. ‘Take off my boots, little one.’ ‘Yes, Sir.’ She struggled, but eventually took off the worn leather boots. ‘Next, me trews,’ he waited to see what she would do. ‘Sir, would you please stand so that I might remove your clothing?’ Her words were forced, and she would. Mom calmed down after the doctor sedated her. And Bernooli was unhurt, if a bit ruffled. To smooth things out, I had to agree to appear in one of his incredibly dull pictures... with the stipulation, of course, that final script approval be left up to me.The bomb lady was never found. Bernooli was unable to help police, insisting that he had been blindfolded the whole time, despite eye witnesses who swore they saw him drive the limousine away. The cops chalked it up to either a movie-land. More

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