And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. " "Poor Jack!" sighed Thames. But there is something in your voice that makes me distrust you. Who is it?” The man came a little further into the room.
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