The Colonel's Widow

It was the fanciest place I had ever stayed, a proper country pile. When I went down to breakfast I announced myself to the lads: "Colonel Mustard, in the library, with the candlestick." There was another guest sat across the dining room, an older woman, dressed all in yellow. She looked daggers at me. She looked ropes, lead piping, revolvers. I took my breakfast up to the room. It didn't feel safe downstairs.