Only her babe died. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. "What a very remarkable thing it is," he observed, applying to his snuff-box, "that Thames Darrell, whom we all supposed dead,"—Kneebone in his heart sincerely wished he had been so,—"should turn out to be alive after all. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. "When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in London on the night of the Great Storm. No need to do such things. It was fastened inside. She could stow away, go to a place where there were no people to eat and end her life.
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