She lay still for a long time, and her mind resumed at a more tolerable pace. "My heart," rejoined Thames, firmly; "which now tells me I am in the presence of his murderer. Your own safety—the child's safety—depends upon your candour. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. He walked on for an hour longer, till he could scarcely drag one leg after another.
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