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In London

           Atallthestreetcornersgroupsofpeoplewerereadingpapers,talkingexcitedly,orstaringattheseunusualSundayvisitors. Theyseemedtoincreaseasnightdrewon,untilatlasttheroads,mybrothersaid,werelikeEpsomHighStreetonaDerbyDay. Mybrotheraddressedseveralofthesefugitivesandgotunsatisfactoryanswersfrommost. 

           NoneofthemcouldtellhimanynewsofWokingexceptoneman,whoassuredhimthatWokinghadbeenentirelydestroyedonthepreviousnight. 

           "IcomefromByfleet,"hesaid; "manonabicyclecamethroughtheplaceintheearlymorning,andranfromdoortodoorwarningustocomeaway. Thencamesoldiers. Wewentouttolook,andtherewerecloudsofsmoketothesouthnothingbutsmoke,andnotasoulcomingthatway. ThenweheardthegunsatChertsey,andfolkscomingfromWeybridge. SoI’velockedupmyhouseandcomeon." 

           Atthetimetherewasastrongfeelinginthestreetsthattheauthoritiesweretoblamefortheirincapacitytodisposeoftheinvaderswithoutallthisinconvenience. 

           Abouteighto’clockanoiseofheavyfiringwasdistinctlyaudiblealloverthesouthofLondon. Mybrothercouldnothearitforthetrafficinthemainthoroughfares,butbystrikingthroughthequietbackstreetstotheriverhewasabletodistinguishitquiteplainly. 

           HewalkedfromWestminstertohisapartmentsnearRegent’sPark,abouttwo. Hewasnowveryanxiousonmyaccount,anddisturbedattheevidentmagnitudeofthetrouble. Hismindwasinclinedtorun,evenasminehadrunonSaturday,onmilitarydetails. 

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Roboto Lora
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