As Andre patrolled the dimly lit corridor, a shadow at its end caught his attention, momentarily diverting his focus from his duty of ensuring no one was breaking curfew.
He crept closer and could hear a woman's voice as she spoke to another man. Then he heard the voice again and realized it was Mielle's and the man she spoke with was the head chef.
Andre frowned at the knowledge, forming a deep crease in his forehead. He was firm in his heart. Mielle was a good girl and did not have a spiteful bone in her body.
"But what about the chef?" He pondered, inching closer to eavesdrop on their conversation, hoping to glean the context of it.
"Could the cook be a spy, and Mielle was talking to him?"
He inwardly worried, "Mielle, his future bride, could be held accountable as an accessory if such a thing were true."
