Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. Do they, Bess?" "Certainly not," replied the young lady appealed to, "especially about their sons. " "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. Look at me. CHAPTER XVIII. As she started, rearing up her head, a hand stole about her mouth and closed down hard. "Not a moment is to be lost," cried Jack: "follow me.
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