"Will he consent, to be searched?" inquired Jonathan. "I don't know his name. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. " Taking the keys, he led the way, followed by Jonathan, who chuckled internally at the shock that awaited the poor fellow. Apparently he did not see his recent companions. It was easy to recognize, the one thing that had stayed the same over the years.
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