Albemarle Street

Yeah

... at Oliver Peyton's restaurant in Albemarle Street, and my wife said to me, "You look dreadful." It's the only time in my life I went out to a chemist and got eye drops-

Yeah, you need 'em

... um, at, in order to perform-

Yeah, so, uh, for people watching and listening, where is it they can see your work in person? Where, where exhibits your work, or who?

Um, well, the gallery that I'm with, and have been with for ages, is the John Martin Gallery, which is in Albemarle Street in, in London.

So just off, just off Piccadilly.

Um, and I've been showing there for, for, for maybe 30 years or something.

"Yes, sir.

The lady drove by taxicab from Prince's Gate to Albemarle Street." "Ah." "Went up to chambers of Sir Lucian Pine and was admitted." "Well?" "Twenty minutes later came out.

Lady was with Sir Lucian.

Both walked around to Old Bond Street.

"They're almost a zarf all they get.

They're bound to come to no good end.

Where did you say Sir Lucian lived?" "Albemarle Street, just around the corner." "You told me that he only kept two servants, a cook, housekeeper, who lived there, and a man, a foreigner." "A kind of half-baked Dago, named Juan Marino, a citizen of the United States, according to his own account." "You dinna like Juan Marino?" "He's a hateful swine," flashed Carey with a sudden venom.

"I'm watching Marino very closely.