"Trenchard," he muttered; "Aliva Trenchard—they were right, then, as to the name. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. Gosse twisted his body to avoid another thrust, and the heavy candlesticks fell, rolling with a noise like thunder, and falling with a thud to the floor. The boy was coming around. "Answer me one question first?" he said; "I half suspect you're Jack Sheppard. "What of that," rejoined Jonathan.
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