” “Rather! But I wonder why you don’t mean it?” “Because, I suppose, the other thing is better. He drew a little breath of relief. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. Courtlaw opened his lips, but remained silent in the face of her imperative gesture. "Shortly after your last visit to Dollis Hill, my father was one evening waylaid by a man, who informed him that he had something to communicate respecting Thames, and had a large sum of money, and some important documents to deliver to him, which would be given up, provided he would undertake to procure your liberation. That would be an unkind twist of fate. ‘Exactement. He’s just. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen.
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