" "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. Your son was seen by the carpenter's wife in company with the robbers. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. Advancing towards Wood, Jonathan fixed his keen gray eyes upon him, and demanded, in a stern tone whether the persons who had taken refuge in the adjoining house, were bailiffs. " "Will you do it?" persisted Blueskin. Very well! I will try to help you.
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