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Updated: May 20, 2025
Starmidge was a young man of ideas as well as of ability, and without exactly shaping his thought in so many words, he felt vaguely perhaps, but none the less strongly that just as you can size up some men by the clothes they wear, so you can get an idea of others by the outer look of the houses which shelter them. Cornmarket in Scarnham lay at the further end of the street called Finkleway.
Never, in all his experience, had Neale seen any of Chestermarke's clerks lounging on the steps at nine o'clock in the morning, and he quickened his pace. Shirley, turning from a prolonged stare towards Finkleway, caught sight of him. "Can't get in," he observed laconically, in answer to Neale's inquiring look. "Mr. Horbury isn't there, and he's got the keys."
As soon as he walked out of the door of the house in which he lodged he saw his two fellow-clerks, Shirley and Patten, standing on the steps of the hall by which entrance was joined to the bank and to the bank-house. They stood there looking about them. Now they looked towards Finkleway a narrow street which led to the railway station at the far end of the town.
And if he hasn't come by that, there's no other train till the 10.45." Neale made no answer. He, too, glanced towards Finkleway, and then at the church clock. It was just going to strike nine and the station was only eight minutes away at the most. He passed the two junior clerks, went down the hall to the door of the bank-house, and entered.
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