It was precisely 1:51 o'clock, as I reclined in my armchair, surrounded by the familiar scent of my pipe's tobacco, the living room was adorned with the amber glow of a few glasses of spirits, their contents reflecting the dim light. Despite the usual cacophony of perplexing cases swirling in my mind, my focus wavered as the minutes ticked by and Ale, my dear, failed to materialize. A subtle disquiet settled in the room, and I found myself pacing the floor, deducing the myriad possibilities that could detain him. The discordant notes of unanswered questions echoed, and I couldn't help but await the resolution of this curious absence with a keen sense of concern. My leg shaken continuously and my mind was being driven by the effects of my past containing alcohol drinks.