"I am," replied Jonathan, following him, "and so," he added in an undertone, "are your captors. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. Not with the unavoidable explanations, and the need to secrete the sword and hide it before returning the priest’s horse to its stable—which had been her excuse for running from Martha’s protestations. He fell backwards on his butt, the wind knocked out of him. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. I would be the kidnapper, of course, but we would forge ransom notes and exchange monies so that it appeared you were taken by brigands or plotters against the Iovelli family. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. " He rose for fear she might touch him again. " "Ay, ay," cried the jailers, laughing. "And, now,—to Newgate.
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