"
"I don't quite grasp it all," said Rupert, blinking still in the
sudden glare. "Lieutenant Keith said his address was--"
"It's really quite right, sir," said Keith, with an open smile.
"The bobby asked me where I lived. And I said, quite truthfully,
that I lived in the elms on Buxton Common, near Purley. So I do.
This gentleman, Mr Montmorency, whom I think you have met before,
is an agent for houses of this kind. He has a special line in
arboreal villas. It's being kept rather quiet at present, because
the people who want these houses don't want them to get too common.
But it's just the sort of thing a fellow like myself, racketing
about in all sorts of queer corners of London, naturally knocks up
against."
"Are you really an agent for arboreal villas?" asked Rupert
eagerly, recovering his ease with the romance of reality.
Mr Montmorency, in his embarrassment, fingered one of his pockets
and nervously pulled out a snake, which crawled about the table.
"W-well, yes, sir," he said. "The fact was--er--my people wanted me
very much to go into the house-agency business. But I never cared
myself for anything but natural history and botany and things like
that. My poor parents have been dead some years now, but--naturally
I like to respect their wishes.
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