Whenever they stepped from the chairs, he stepped down. " And, committing Thames to the care of the watchman, he darted after the fugitive. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. " "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel. Quite right. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion.
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