Chapter One.
Number 9A, Albemarle Square.
“Don’t drink our sherry, Charles?”
Mr Preenham, the butler, stood by the table in the gloomy servants’ hall, as if he had received a shock.
“No, sir; I took ’em up the beer at first, and they shook their heads and asked for wine, and when I took ’em the sherry they shook their heads again, and the one who speaks English said they want key-aunty.”...
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