The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits.
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