"Yes," answered the girl. " "I'd rather lie here for ever, than be indebted to you for my freedom," returned Thames. But he reckoned without his host. Her soft brown eyes, inherited from Larry, warmed an already pretty face. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew. " "Where—where?" cried Thames. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses.
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