Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. "Don't harm him," said Jack, carelessly: "he dares not do it. It had not tasted good since 1350. My poor son despairs of me, for I have primed every member of the family to bring me the latest novels whenever they choose to visit. But whenever the storm grew dangerous, either McClintock or Spurlock broke into saving laughter. It does not matter to him either way. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House.
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