McClintock, coming from below, saw them and went forward. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. It gave her great satisfaction to hear that Madame Chamberlain had spent a night in the county jail, even if the nocturnal activities picked right up again after two weeks. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. We’ll have Trodger check it out later. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. She opened her eyes.
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