The Priory of Finchelsea XVII

Kathy looked with some trepidation at Sir Richard Arcos. This was perhaps not very surprising, since Sir Richard was over six foot tall, square-jawed, grey-haired and jovial-looking. He wore a tweed suit that looked like it had been bought some time in the 1960s and worn practically continuously ever since.
"Sir Richard Arcos...?"
"Sure!" Lil reassured her. "The Reverened Sir Richard Arcos, pastor of the Mount Zion Free Grace Baptist Church in Los Angeles. He's an old friend."
"I'd say I knew her when she was in pigtails, but it would be highly untrue. She was fourteen when we met, in a church in New York. I found her the most irriating teenager I ever met - excepting my wife, of course. She was sixteen when I first met her... but that's another matter entirely. Well, I've had a lot of fun one way and another where Dr. Barton is concerned. If I'd thought I might have known she'd be up to her little neck in battle, murder and sudden death!" he laughed at the apparent discomfort of the professor. "But don't worry, Lil, I'll forgive you since you let me in on it. So, Tell me what happened in words of two syllables or less, and with appropriate diagrams." He led them into the living-room, where Dr. Barton instantly flopped on the sofa.
"Do you want a drink?" Sir Richard asked her. "We have tea, coffee, brandy, scotch, and something yellow in a bottle that's lost it label. Or we have arsenic."
"None of them. If you've got something that'll give two weeks' worth of uninterrupted sleep, I'll take it."
"Sorry, that ran out last night. So, lass, what is the problem?"
Lil explained slowly and carefully to the knight.