Lucy stared out to the busy streets beyond. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. I snatched it up, pointed it blindly at him, and fired. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. "I want to know what you've done with the rest of the notes—with the gold— and the papers you took away from my room!" rejoined Wild.
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