From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradually to the brow of Dollis Hill. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. Kicked out of there for something shady. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him.
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