“It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. ” He commented, seeing the car in the drive. " "If you mean the fugitive, Darrell, he has escaped through the back window," replied Jonathan. Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. CHAPTER XXIX. ’ ‘I’m not going to release you, so it’s no use complaining.
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