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I very well remember the day when the news came about that affair of Maitland robbing the bank. Miss Baylis, she was like a mad thing when she saw it in the paper, and before she'd seen it an hour she was off to Market Milcaster.
"No, I'm not," admitted Spargo. And he was going to add that until the previous evening he had never even heard of Market Milcaster, but he wisely refrained. "No, I'm certainly not," he added. Mr. Quarterpage waved his long pipe.
How was he going to set about this difficult task? "The first thing," said Spargo to himself as he tied a new tie, "is to have a look round. That'll be no long job." For he had already seen as he approached the town, and as he drove from the station to the "Yellow Dragon" Hotel, that Market Milcaster was a very small place.
The five old men all glanced at each other and made simultaneous grunts. Then Mr. Quarterpage spoke. "It is one of the original fifty burgess tickets of Market Milcaster, young sir, which gave its holder special and greatly valued privileges in respect to attendance at our once famous race-meeting, now unfortunately a thing of the past," he added.
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