"The
boots and the chambermaid are on their honeymoon. He is a journalist."
"How do you know all this?" I demanded suspiciously.
"I wormed the whole thing out of the chambermaid at the very
beginning," said Tony. "I didn't tell you because I thought it would be
more fun."
Miss Jones succeeded in pacifying the old couple somehow--mainly, I
think, by promises of a new regime--and we left them in the coffee-room
looking almost cheerful.
Tony and I went out to talk in the moonlight, while I smoked an
after-dinner cigar. We were gone for some time, and on our return
decided to go straight upstairs to bed. I noticed that lights still
burned in the coffee-room, and heard the sound of voices from that
direction. Thinking that some late guests had arrived during our
absence, I had the curiosity to glance round the door. The whole of our
late staff sat round a table, on which were arrayed much food and
several gilt-topped bottles.
"Come along. Do join us!" cried Mr. Gunthorpe, sighting us at once.
"Come and celebrate the end of this bat in the belfry sort of
management," added boots, holding high a sparkling glass.
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