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"How beautiful!" exclaimed Francis involuntarily drawing rein. "Pause, I pray you, my lord. Do they always ring so?" "Ay, child. Ever since and long before they sounded so musically in Dick Whittington's ears: 'Turn again, turn again, thrice lord mayor of London'! What think you they say? Do they bear a message to your ears?" The girl listened intently.
He walked as far as Holloway; and there sat down on a stone, which to this day is called Whittington's stone, and began to think to himself which road he should take as he went onwards. While he was thinking what he should do, the bells of Bow Church, which at that time had only six, began to ring, and he fancied their sound seemed to say to him: "Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London."
Taxis were plentiful here, and before Whittington's had driven off another was drawing up to the curb in obedience to Tommy's peremptory hand. "Follow that other taxi," directed the young man. "Don't lose it." The elderly chauffeur showed no interest. He merely grunted and jerked down his flag. The drive was uneventful. Tommy's taxi came to rest at the departure platform just after Whittington's.
He dragged out his toy village and tried to make it a bridge in his imagination between the nursery and Whittington's world. As the village opened a door from the nursery, so might Whittington open a door from the village. He considered Hamlet and wondered whether he knew anything about it. Hamlet, in spite of his mongrel appearance, was a very clever dog.
He had spurred onwards towards Trent? There were those six horses in the stables. Whittington's face had disappeared very silently. "An honest man," thought Wogan, "does not take off his boots before he mounts the stairs." Clementina was still standing at his side. Without changing his attitude he rapped with his knuckles gently twice upon the boards of the stair.
"Very little indeed," answered Tuppence, and was pleased to note that Whittington's uneasiness was augmented instead of allayed. To have boasted that she knew a lot might have raised doubts in his mind. "Anyway," snarled Whittington, "you knew enough to come in here and plump out that name." "It might be my own name," Tuppence pointed out.
The captain saw his, or Whittington's, opportunity, and stated that he knew a certain remedy for this state of affairs; whereupon he was invited to dinner next day, to which he carried the cat, and the natural consequence ensued.
Jabez had slid deep into his chair, an' now he had a fierce scowl on his face. "That was MY toe you was a-pressin'," he sez, lookin' Piker between the eyes. "I beg your pardon," sez Piker, laughin' easy; "I thought it was Silv I mean Whittington's. I wanted him to keep still until after this hand was out.
Whittington's own lips, had paid a visit secretly, using a key which you had retained to the house on an excuse that you had left behind jewels of some value. You saw her Highness the Princess. You told her a story of the King and Mlle. de Caprara. I rode to Rome, and when the King came last night Mlle. de Caprara was with the Princess. I had evidence against Mr.
Michael's, Tower Royal, is Whittington's church. In this parish he lived, though a house was long shown as his in Hart Street; here he died; in this church he was buried behind this church stood his College of the Holy Spirit with its bedesmen and its ecclesiastical staff.
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