“It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. “I may seem unduly— anxious. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. "It must look sharp then, or I shall give it the slip," laughed Ben: "the gale never yet blowed as could perwent my crossing the Thames. Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. They are mine! They were sent to ‘Alcide’ not to you.
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