Mrs H and I have whizzed off on holiday, so blogging may be light but here is a snippet from my holiday reading. Not sure whodunit yet though - no butler has appeared so far.
The house had not been used as a farm-house for fifteen years, and was falling to ruin when he bought it in 1918. He had had it thoroughly repaired and fitted with modern conveniences—a bath-room, a telephone, and a plant for making acetylene gas to light it.
Edgar Jepson - The Murder in Romney Marsh (1929)
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