Such was the hubbub and tumult around him, that the carpenter could not hear its plunge into the flood. He suddenly became eloquent and plausible. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. He then scaled the northern tower, and made his way to the summit of that part of the prison which fronted Giltspur Street.
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