That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. "Tell him that I—his adopted son, Thames Darrell— am detained here by Jonathan Wild. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. You were pointed out to me at—a few nights ago. He looked just like John Wayne in a cowboy movie, his eyes narrow and squinting, except his hair was long, unruly, and jet black. “She has gone down into the country.
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