The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm. While he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and examined the haft. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something. All at once he saw a way out of the threatening doldrums. You must tell me what it all means. He hated horizons. There's a hundred pounds too much.
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