He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. Ha! ha! ha!" "Jack!" exclaimed Thames, angrily. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. "They have ever since been deposited in a place of safety. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person.
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