How this phrase thrilled through me!
Why, e took up is end o the boxes like they was pounds of tea, and
me a-puffin an a-blowin afore I could up-end mine anyhow--an I m no
chicken, neither.
How did you get into the house in Piccadilly? I asked.
He was there too. He must a started off and got there afore me, for
when I rung of the bell he kem an opened the door isself an elped me
to carry the boxes into the all.
The whole nine? I asked.
Yus; there was five in the first load an four in the second. It was
main dry work, an I don t so well remember ow I got ome. I
interrupted him:--
Were the boxes left in the hall?
Yus; it was a big all, an there was nothin else in it. I made one
more attempt to further matters:--
You didn t have any key?
Never used no key nor nothink. The old gent, he opened the door isself
an shut it again when I druv off. I don t remember the last time--but
that was the beer.
And you can t remember the number of the house?
No, sir. But ye needn t have no difficulty about that. It s a igh un
with a stone front with a bow on it, an igh steps up to the door. I
know them steps, avin ad to carry the boxes up with three loafers
what come round to earn a copper. The old gent give them shillin s, an
they seein they got so much, they wanted more; but e took one of them
by the shoulder and was like to throw im down the steps, till the lot
of them went away cussin . I thought that with this description I could
find the house, so, having paid my friend for his information, I started
off for Piccadilly. I had gained a new painful experience; the Count
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