‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. 144 I think he heard about the backpack and the spitballs finally. A murmur ran through the assemblage, by several of whom Jack was recognised. . You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland.
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