Part 4 After a day or so she thought more steadily. "Cease your confounded clutter!" said a young man, whose swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as being that of a Mulatto. “It’s—private. “She’s all right. He handed Ruth a letter. But I must—I ought—” “I MUST talk about this. ’ ‘What is all this about your proof?’ demanded Roding, diverted. A post-chaise seen in the road first alarmed us. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack.
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