He says he's most frightfully rich, and he's got to get up to
town to the Stocks or something where they change papers into
gold if you're clever, he says. I should like to go to the
Stocks-change, wouldn't you?"
"I don't seem to care very much about changes, said Gerald. "I've
had enough. Show us where he is we must get rid of him."
"He's got a motor-car," Jimmy went on, parting the warm
varnished-looking rhododendron leaves, "and a garden with a
tennis-court and a lake and a carriage and pair, and he goes to
Athens for his holiday sometimes, just like other people go to
Margate."
"The best thing," said Gerald, following through the bushes, "will
be to tell him the shortest way out is through that hotel that he
thinks he found last night. Then we get him into the passage, give
him a push, fly back, and shut the door."
"He'll starve to death in there," said Kathleen, "if he's really real."
"I expect it doesn't last long, the ring magics don't anyway, it's the
only thing I can think of."
"He's frightfully rich," Jimmy went on unheeding amid the
cracking of the bushes; "he's building a public library for the
people where he lives, and having his portrait painted to put in it.
He thinks they'll like that."
The belt of rhododendrons was passed, and the children had
reached a smooth grass walk bordered by tall pines and firs of
strange different kinds.
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