He lived here, there, and everywhere; his address (as he used to put it himself) being "Post Office, Europe--to be left till called for." Twice over, he made up his mind to come back to England and see us; and twice over (saving your presence), some unmentionable woman stood in the way and stopped him.
His third attempt succeeded, as you know already from what my lady told me.

On Thursday the twenty-fifth of May, we were to see for the first time what our nice boy had grown to be as a man.

He came of good blood; he had a high courage; and he was five-and-twenty years of age, by our reckoning.

Now you know as much of Mr.Franklin Blake as I did--before Mr.Franklin Blake came down to our house.
The Thursday was as fine a summer's day as ever you saw: and my lady and Miss Rachel (not expecting Mr.Franklin till dinner-time) drove out to lunch with some friends in the neighbourhood.
When they were gone, I went and had a look at the bedroom which had been got ready for our guest, and saw that all was straight.

Then, being butler in my lady's establishment, as well as steward (at my own particular request, mind, and because it vexed me to see anybody but myself in possession of the key of the late Sir John's cellar)--then, I say, I fetched up some of our famous Latour claret, and set it in the warm summer air to take off the chill before dinner.