Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. In a side-glance—for the floor was variously encumbered with overturned objects—he saw one of his paper weights, a coloured glass ball such as McClintock used in trade. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. ’ Jack gasped. " "Thames Ditton—is that your name?" "No," replied the boy, impatiently; "Darrell—Thames Darrell. "Here's one of the thieves, Sir Rowland!" cried the attendant. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her. ‘Sapristi,’ he shouted angrily. There was a photo of her that looked exactly like you. I’ve to collect my sword and hat, and then we must get back to London. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. They buried him in Willesden churchyard after the robbery.
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