“Mulliner 4 THE BISHOP’S MOVE ANOTHER Sunday was drawing to a close, and Mr Mulliner had come into the bar-parlour of the Anglers’ Rest wearing on his head, in place of the seedy old wide-awake which usually adorned it, a glistening top hat. From this, combined with the sober black of his costume and the rather devout voice in which he ordered hot Scotch and lemon, I deduced that he had been attending Evensong.
“Good sermon?” I asked.
“Quite good. The new curate preached. He seems a nice young fellow.”
“Speaking of curates,” I said, “I have often wondered what became of your nephew —the one you were telling me about the other day.”
“Augustine?”
“The fellow who took the Buck-U-Uppo.”
“That was Augustine. And I am pleased and not a little touched,’ said Mr Mulliner, beaming, “that you should have remembered the trivial anecdote which I related. In this self-centred world one does not always find such a sympathetic listener to one’s stories.
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