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. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. " "I've nothing to confess," replied Thames, boldly; "I've done no wrong. You refuse me your confidence. "They're the heaviest set we have,—and were forged expressly for Captain Sheppard.
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