3am Friday and page 3 is finally finished... here it is with comments below:

It's amazing how much better it looks in colour... I guess my drawing is also starting to slip after almost 15 hours of constant comicking. I think it does the job though.
As a DVD extra, here's the script for a little extra scene that would have preceded the second dinner. It starts the morning after Reverend Scruple's amorous adventure:
Panel 31
VO: I woke late; the events of the night before had been unusual, but I was enough a man of the world that it would have taken more to disturb my sleep.
He enters the drawing room.
Ivy: Good morning, Lord Howard. I had the servants set up breakfast for you earlier. Sylvia also asked me to thank you for your kindness last night. She said you would understand what she meant by that.
Loki: Ah, yes, Countess Aglovale. I merely explained to her of an infallible rule for remembering French verbs, over dinner.
Panel 32
Ivy: Call me Ivy, Countess is so formal. My husband and the other gentlemen left at nine for a pheasant hunt. He hoped you would join them when you were ready.
Loki: I would be happy to. You didn't want to join them, Reverend?
Mrs Scruple: Poor Ernest has been feeling unwell this morning. He didn't sleep a wink last night.
Panel 33
VO: The man did look very tired. I breakfasted, and then set off at once in the direction taken by the shooting party.
A shot whizzes by him.
Cyril (OS) : Get down! Get down!
Panel 34
Loki joins them crouching behind a knoll.
Colonel: The earl seems to have gone mad! He started yelling, calling us all the names under the sun-
Joseph: He's shooting at us!
Colonel: Nonsense! Victor is a crackshot- I taught him myself. If he wanted to hit us-
Panel 35
One of the hunting dogs is shot.
Victor: I'll kill you all! You bastards!
Panel 36
Victor collapses.
Panel 37
V.O: Dinner was somewhat awkward that night. After we carried him back to the castle, Victor awoke claiming no memory of his strange behaviour- indeed, he cried unashamedly when he learned that he had in fact shot his favourite hound.
Myrtle: I do nor approve of pheasant hunting in any case. I cannot understand the fascination.
Cyril: Quite right, indeed, I should be worried were a woman to express to much interest in so brutish a thing. I have always been of the opinion that the fairer sex should avoid anything likely to instil in them a familiarity with bloodshed-