Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. I will take you for thirty-five shillings a week. Earles drew out his cheque book. I am glad you found me. The chapel was crowded to excess. He was pretty successful in Manchester,—a town which may be said to have been the head-quarters of the disaffected. Never was there another girl like this one. Whoever answers them must assist me to capture your son. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. Seeing from the threatening looks of his captors, that they were about to wreak their vengeance upon him, the miserable wretch besought mercy in abject terms, and charged his master with the most atrocious crimes.
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