The Norfolk Mystery (The County Guides) - Plot & Excerpts
Like a – moustached, teetotal and tweed-clad – Plantagenet ruler he had by now established almost entire control of the Blakeney Hotel and its staff, who were happy ferrying books, and paper and pens, and typewriter ribbons, and envelopes, and sealing wax, and blotters and all his other necessary writing requisites back and forth, as well as providing him with a constant supply of tea, arrowroot biscuits and barley water. He was the sort of man, Morley, like Edward Longshanks, or Charlie Chaplin, who inspired loyalty and devotion. I spent the rest of the morning smoking, mostly, in the modest hotel gardens, and eventually made an appearance around eleven, just as the sands on Morley’s quarter-hour egg-timer were running out. I hovered by his table in the restaurant, waiting to speak until the moment he went to upturn the thing again. ‘Mr Morley?’ ‘Ah, Sefton. Look at that. Perfect timing.’ He consulted all his watches, and the table clock. ‘Time for us to be off again shortly.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Productive morning?’ ‘Very,’ I said.
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