When a fragrant lamb shank braised with Pernod-infused cream sauce was placed on the table, Feng Bujue leaned forward slightly, picked up the paper bag from under his chair, and took out a rather large envelope from it.

"You should recognize this envelope, Mr. Lovecraft?" Feng Bujue said to Corston.

The latter hesitated for two seconds, then was greatly shocked. In an instant, his expression changed from shock to rage. "You... you thief! This is blatant theft!" He stood up excitedly, pointed at Feng Bujue, and faced Detective Schofield, "Arrest him! Officer!"

"What's going on?" Schofield was also confused for a moment, because he didn't know what was in Jue-ge's paper bag.

About forty minutes ago, the detective contacted a former colleague by phone. The colleague was still working in the police department of a large city and readily agreed to help Schofield. Twenty minutes later, the detective called again, and the other party had already obtained information about the gardener, Barton, from the archives and faxed it over (fax machines developed and became popular rapidly in the 1980s, with the standardization process and technological maturity, so people like Lovecraft naturally had them).

From the time Feng Bujue received the fax until he appeared at the restaurant door just now, the detective didn't know where he had gone.

"It's a very simple matter," Feng Bujue said. "I just sneaked into Mr. Lovecraft's room and stole this will from his safe."

"What!" This time, everyone at the table was astonished.

"You...this..." Schofield was at a loss.

"Moreover, I've already opened it and read it," Feng Bujue added in a relaxed tone. "Look, the seal has been torn open." He even showed it to everyone. "Don't worry, I think Mr. Corston's lawyer has a stack of identical copies. Wills are usually made in duplicate or even triplicate, so it doesn't matter if I burn this one in my hand."

If Mr. Corston was a burning fire at this moment, then Feng Bujue's words, attitude, and behavior were like firewood, gasoline, and liquefied gas... If the former were twenty years younger, he would have jumped onto the table and kicked him by now.

"There's some very interesting content..." Feng Bujue casually put the will on the table, picked up his knife and fork, and continued eating the lamb.

"Mr. Feng!" Schofield suddenly stood up solemnly and took out a pair of handcuffs from his waist. "You should be clear that your behavior..."

"Is theft," Feng Bujue interrupted. "Of course I'm clear... Don't worry, Detective. Since I took the thing out, it's like admitting my guilt, isn't it?" He acted as if he didn't care at all. "Do I look like I'm going to run away?" He said while eating, "After I've solved this murder case, it won't be too late for you to handcuff me and send me to the town's police station overnight."

"No! You must arrest him now! Officer! Why are you listening to a thief?" Corston shouted desperately. He leaned on his cane, stood up from his seat, and tried his best to walk around the long table, all the way from the head of the table.

"Heh... what do you want to do? Snatch back the will and knock me unconscious with your cane? Do you think that will stop me from revealing its contents?" Feng Bujue sat calmly, looking leisurely, as if the furious old man rushing towards him posed no threat at all.

Schofield stepped forward to stop him and said to Corston, who was approaching, "Sir, please don't be impulsive. Violence cannot..."

"You sit down!" Suddenly, Feng Bujue shouted violently. At this moment, his tone and expression changed instantly.

He took out a pistol from the paper bag beside him with lightning speed and raised it to aim. His movements were so skilled and his speed so fast that it was hard to believe he was a law-abiding citizen...

Jue-ge's gun was not pointed at Corston, but at another person, someone who had quietly gotten up and was trying to approach from the side—Barton.

"I know you're good," Feng Bujue said, his expression resolute and cold. He looked directly at the target, "But my marksmanship is also decent."

Barton's expression changed several times. The cowardly, kind, and easily startled gardener disappeared in a few seconds. What replaced him was a cold, restrained, and unfathomable man. On his face, one could also see another person's shadow, and that person was the owner of this villa... Corston.

"Officer, do you have a gun?" Feng Bujue asked, staring intently at Barton.

"Mr. Feng... before things get out of hand, I advise you..." Schofield couldn't finish his sentence.

Feng Bujue interrupted, "If you don't have one, use mine."

At this moment, Schofield finally recovered from his initial surprise and understood the situation. He calmed himself down, quickly stepped forward, took the gun from Feng Bujue, and then, holding the gun with both hands, aimed at Barton and ordered loudly, "Dempsey, handcuff Mr. Barton."

"Yes... yes!" Dempsey was stunned for a moment, but he did as he was told. Although he didn't understand what was going on, following his superior's orders should be right.

When Barton was handcuffed, Corston collapsed. He slumped to the ground, looking as if he had aged ten years in an instant. His distraught eyes frightened all of his family members.

Odette, Jack, and Nancy all ran over, surrounding Corston and trying to help him up.

"Now that things have come to this, should I call you John Barton," Feng Bujue said, "Or... John Lovecraft?"

As soon as he said this, everyone in the room looked at Barton, including Oliver, who had just pushed the cart in. Everyone froze...

The changes that had taken place in these few minutes, as well as Feng Bujue's words at this moment, seemed to have revealed everything.

"When did you start suspecting me?" Barton said in a deep voice.

"When was it..." Seeing that the situation was under control, Feng Bujue picked up his knife and fork again and began to put food in his mouth. "When I was investigating with the detective on the lawn outside the villa."

"Did I leave any traces outside Dennis's guest room window?" Barton asked.

"No, it's not related to that," Feng Bujue said. "I basically became sure that you were the murderer after seeing the tree outside Mr. Corston's house."

"You..." Barton was stunned. "Heh... hehehe... hahahaha..." He laughed and then continued, "I underestimated you too much. You could even discover those details..."

"Ah, that's for sure," Feng Bujue replied coldly. "And once I listed you as a key suspect, those flaws and mistakes in your previous clumsy performance in front of me were gradually revealed." He shook his head. "Adding feet to a snake and digging your own grave is the most appropriate way to describe you in this case."