“Hello, John. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. ” He said. He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life. Her father held some printed document in his hand, and appeared not to observe her entry. She turned up dead after about eight weeks and it broke my heart. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high.
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