Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street. “Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. My arm's nearly well again. Gave me a purse, and told me to take both of ’em up to Harwich and put them on a packet for Holland.
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