"I won't trouble you further, Jack," he remarked. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. And now tell me what has happened to my poor mother?" "Ever since your last capture, and Thames's mysterious disappearance, she has been dreadfully ill," replied Winifred; "so ill, that each day was expected to be her last. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. If he got her outside, surely the soldiers would see her and intervene. They were his friends, and they recognized his unusual earnestness. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. Sooner or later she’s going to run away again, and I want Frith to follow her and find out where she’s living.
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