He sat before a desk littered all over with papers and official looking documents. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. Tell me why you ran away from the convent. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. "We may trust him," he added in a whisper; "he is a staunch friend of the good cause.
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