" "Pish!" cried Jack: "I don't value his anger a straw. The name of his father's murderer is also known to me. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet.
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