"Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. He had sold half a dozen short tales to thirdrate magazines; but this letter had been issued from a distinguished editorial room, of international reputation. I sha'n't cry any more. "I am your most unhappy son. Are you sure you're not misinformed, Sir?" "I was in the Lodge at the time," replied the jailer. ‘Speak, then. "But, I own, I think it is like.
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