“Not a friend of Mr. Attleton’s, I gather?”
“Just so, sir. It’s a funny thing,” went on Weller, in an outburst of confidence. “They say what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, but it depends on the nature of the individual how you look at it. Now Mr. Attleton has his failings. I’ve told you so frankly, but I like him for all that. I’d lend him my last fiver and do it gladly—but that Mr. Burroughs. No. No class, sir. Not a gentleman. Very wealthy, I’m told, very wealthy indeed, but not a person I’d like to serve, and that’s a fact. Don’t know how to treat a servant, that’s what it is.”
“Anything else, Weller?”
“Not as I’d care to mention, sir. It’s one thing to talk about Mr. Attleton’s little ways—when all’s said and done, most gentlemen are much alike—but I’ve nothing to sa
