“For crying out loud,” thought Trevor, “how stupid does he think I am?” He sighed and fetched a spare cane from under the loose floorboards.
The feud between Trevor and Luigi had been going on some time. Every evening following Circus Donato’s show, Trevor would find that the cane on which he depended to ‘see’ was shorter. Every day, Trevor would pretend to be distressed whilst quietly replacing his stick … and plotting.
Then the flamethrower salesman came to town. Trevor may be blind, he may be a dwarf, but he has excellent hearing. And flamethrowers are easy to aim.