Then everybody saving Mr. Maltby started. The same clock struck one. Mr. Maltby turned to the portrait over the fireplace.
“In another hour,” he mused, “it will be twenty years to the second since you closed your lips. Can we reopen them?”
To the second? Hahahahahahahahaaaa. This is so contrived, but I am enjoying the overall feel of this one. It certainly is not Poirot, tho.