"Come, I must search you my youngster!" "You shan't touch me," rejoined Thames; and, suddenly bursting from Charcam, he threw himself at the feet of Trenchard. "Mother!" cried Jack, springing towards her. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. He used his utmost efforts to liberate Jack from Langley, but closely pressed on all sides, he was not able to render any effectual assistance. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment.
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