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'But you'll have a card,' said the man, through the little aperture in
the top, 'give me your card-case.'
'What imagi--imagination in a cabby!' cried the lawyer, producing his
card-case, and handing it to the driver.
The man read it by the light of the lamp. 'Mr Michael Finsbury, 233
King's Road, Chelsea. Is that it, sir?'
'Right you are,' cried Michael, 'drive there if you can see way.'
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