CHAPTER VII. ” “And our destinations also, it seems,” she added, smiling. Near as idiot as this capitaine of yours. “I’m five years older than you, and no end wiser, being a man. 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. I examined the Condemned Hold myself carefully this morning, and didn't find a nail out of its place. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. And for many years, that was the way it was. The entrance was concealed between two huge boulders within a clump of trees, and was now so overgrown that no one who did not know of its existence could ever hope to find it.
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