The thing really began when I got back to Easeby, my uncle's place in
Shropshire. I was spending a week or so there, as I generally did in the
summer; and I had had to break my visit to come back to London to get a new
valet. I had found Meadowes, the fellow I had taken to Easeby with me,
sneaking my silk socks, a thing no bloke of spirit could stick at any price.
It transpiring, moreoever, that he had looted a lot of other things here and
there about the place, I was reluctantly compelled to hand... Continuar leyendo