"I'm sorry," she said. Her voice was weak and flat. Again silence. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. "Before I go," continued Sir Rowland, "I must beg of you to disclose to me all you know relative to the parentage of Thames Darrell.
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