'In one corner of the room was a rather large whatnot, on which lay
one or two French novels in green and yellow paper covers and a few
daily and weekly newspapers, which I went and turned over. Among them
I was startled to find a paper called the _Raxton Gazette_. But I saw
at once how it got there, for written on the margin at the top of the
paper was the address, "Dr. Mivart, Wimpole Street, London." Mr.
D'Arcy had told me that the gentleman whose voice I heard behind the
screen was the medical man who attended to me during my illness, and
it now suddenly flashed upon my mind that at Raxton there was a Dr.
Mivart, though I had never seen him during my stay there. These were,
no doubt, one and the same person, and some one from Raxton had
posted the newspaper to the doctor's house in London.
'I looked down the columns of the paper with a very lively interest,
and my eye was soon caught by a paragraph encircled by a thick blue
pencil mark. It gave from a paper called the _London Satirist_ what
professed to be a long account of you, in which it was said that you
were living in a bungalow in Wales with a Gypsy girl.
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