" "Do not doubt me," replied Thames, warmly pressing his hand. I knew where I would go next: Florence. "I'll fetch it. "But, pardon my intrusion. Never mind, I’ve got plenty. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. ’ ‘What is all this about your proof?’ demanded Roding, diverted. "That's scarcely a fair question, Mr. ” “It was Cheveney!” he said slowly.
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