Sheppard," cried the thief-taker, as he slipped a pair of handcuffs over Jack's wrists, "for the help you have given us in capturing your son. “We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared. That’s my opinion, if you ask me. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. " "Let me have them.
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