CHAPTER XXVII. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. "Blueskin," said Jonathan, as that worthy was about to follow, "I advise you to
remain with me. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. "
Ruth laughed. The
packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal
of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found
the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at
Jonathan Wild's. "What a very remarkable thing it is," he observed, applying to his snuff-box,
"that Thames Darrell, whom we all supposed dead,"—Kneebone in his heart
sincerely wished he had been so,—"should turn out to be alive after all. Courtlaw found the study in Cariolus’ studio. And two other ladies.
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