Connie noted that this had happened several times before during their month together. Once someone even called out “Gus!” from across the road, and Alfie had turned suddenly as one does when responding to having ones name called out.
Then a letter arrived in the mail address to Mr. Augustine Cladworthy. Usually Alfie was all too keen to check the mail box, but on this day he was feeling a little poorly so Connie did the checking.
“Who exactly is Mr. Augustine Cladworthy?” asked Connie. “This getting called Gus has happened far too often for it to be a coincidence. It’s time you came clean.”
Alfie realized he was trapped. There was no way out. He had tried to dream up an escape story he could use should his real identity be discovered. He’d been unsuccessful at imagining something cogent, and now he was against the wall.
“Well,” he admitted, “I was the whistle blower that spilt the beans on the McPherson case just over a year ago. The government gave me a new identity. I was Gus, and now I’m Alfie.”
“We suspected so,” said Connie, “but just wanted to make sure.” She pulled out her pistol and wreaked her revenge.
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