Yet another proof there's nothing new under the sun.
"Mr. Coulson twisted the ends of his white mustache,
cursed his foot, and pounded a bell on the table by his
side.

In came Mrs. Widdup. She was comely to the eye,
fair, flustered, forty and foxy.

"Higgins is out, sir," she said, with a smile suggestive
of vibratory massage. "He went to post a letter. Can
I do anything for you, sir?"