While he was swinging in mid air, Thames regarded his uncle with a stern look, and cried in a menacing voice, "We shall meet again. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. . Utter silence answered him. "Upon him!" "Yield, villain, or die!" shouted Thames, drawing his sword and springing towards him. And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. ’ The full story—or as much as Gerald knew—of Valade’s machinations shocked the old lady so much that she was obliged to recruit her strength with a refill from the Madeira decanter. Do not disquiet yourself. They were so good to me.
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