Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. And we won’t make it so. "I want to know what you've done with the rest of the notes—with the gold— and the papers you took away from my room!" rejoined Wild.
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