’ ‘That was not what I had in mind. It was open. Nothing stronger than water has passed my lips for years. ‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. I overheard what Mr. I don’t want to know.
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