CHAPTER XIX. They crossed the Channel in sunshine and a breeze that just ruffled the sea to glittering scales of silver. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. ’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed. “Isn’t that rather a strange question—under the circumstances?” he asked quietly.
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