"Your friend's going to be left behind," said Mrs. Cropper as the train moved out.
"That would be very unlike him," replied Mr. Murbles, calmly unfolding a couple of rugs and exchanging his old-fashioned top-hat for a curious kind of travelling cap with flaps to it. Mrs. Cropper, in the midst of her anxiety, could not help wondering where in the world he had contrived to purchase this Victorian relic. As a matter of fact, Mr. Murbles' caps were specially made to his own design by an exceedingly expensive West End hatter, who a held Mr. Murbles in deep respect as a real gentleman of the old school.
(from Unnatural Death, by Dorothy L. Sayers)
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