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Updated: June 16, 2025
"You've seen it before, Tredgold," he said, shortly. "It's a fine old building," said the other. "Binchester ought to be proud of it. Why, here we are at Captain Bowers's!" "The house has been next to the church for a couple o' hundred years," retorted his friend. "Let's go in," said Mr. Tredgold. "Strike while the iron's hot. At any rate," he concluded, as Mr.
Binchester rang with the story of her wrongs, and, being furnished with three different accounts of the same incident, seemed inclined to display a little pardonable curiosity.
"You've seen it before, Tredgold," he said, shortly. "It's a fine old building," said the other. "Binchester ought to be proud of it. Why, here we are at Captain Bowers's!" "The house has been next to the church for a couple o' hundred years," retorted his friend. "Let's go in," said Mr. Tredgold. "Strike while the iron's hot. At any rate," he concluded, as Mr.
Stobell said that fortunately they would be in a warm climate, and turned to greet the Tredgolds, who had just arrived. Then the train came in, and Mr. Chalk, appearing suddenly from behind the luggage, where he had been standing since he had first caught sight of the small, anxious face of Selina Vickers on the platform, entered the carriage and waved cheery adieus to Binchester.
The surprise with which Miss Drewitt greeted them all confirmed him in this opinion, and he was glad to think that he had called her attention to them ere it was too late. "He's very popular in Binchester," he said, impressively. "Chalk told me that he is surprised he has not been married before now, seeing the way that he is run after." "Dear me!" said his niece, with suppressed viciousness.
He put down his pen and, rising, looked over the top of the blind at a girl who was glancing from side to side of the road as though in search of an address. "A visitor," continued Mr. Tredgold, critically. "Girls like that only visit Binchester, and then take the first train back, never to return."
Mr. Edward Tredgold sat in the private office of Tredgold and Son, land and estate agents, gazing through the prim wire blinds at the peaceful High Street of Binchester. Tredgold senior, who believed in work for the young, had left early.
Deprived of his society the captain consoled himself with that of Edward Tredgold, a young man for whom he was beginning to entertain a strong partiality, and whose observations of Binchester folk, flavoured with a touch of good-natured malice, were a source of never-failing interest. "He is very wide-awake," he said to his niece. "There isn't much that escapes him."
Chalk gazed thoughtfully at the portrait. It was not a good likeness, but it was more like Mr. Stobell than anybody else in Binchester, a fact which had been of some use in allaying certain unworthy suspicions of Mr. Stobell the first time he saw it. "Yes," said Mrs. Chalk, significantly, "I should think you could." Mrs.
Never before on a Sunday afternoon had Miss Drewitt known the streets of Binchester to be so full of people. She hurried on with bent head, looking straight before her, trying to imagine what she looked like. There was no sign of the captain, but as they turned into Dialstone Lane they both saw a huge, shaggy, grey head protruding from the small window of his bedroom.
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