"Ah! you laryer devil," he said, alluding to Mr. Quest. "If I don't
make Boisingham, yes, and all England, too hot to hold you, my mother
never christened me and my name ain't George. I'll give you what for,
my cuckoo, that I will!"
CHAPTER XXXIV
GEORGE'S DIPLOMATIC ERRAND
George carried out his intention of going to London. On the second
morning after the day when Mr. Quest had driven the auctioneer in the
dog-cart to Honham, he might have been seen an hour before it was
light purchasing a third class return ticket to Liverpool Street.
Arriving there in safety he partook of a second breakfast, for it was
ten o'clock, and then hiring a cab caused himself to be driven to the
end of that street in Pimlico where he had gone with the fair
"Edithia" and where Johnnie had made acquaintance with his ash stick.
Dismissing the cab he made his way to the house with the red pillars,
but on arriving was considerably taken aback, for the place had every
appearance of being deserted. There were no blinds to the windows, and
on the steps were muddy footmarks and bits of rag and straw which
seemed to be the litter of a recent removal. Indeed, there on the road
were the broad wheelmarks of the van which had carted off the
furniture.
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