“Thank God,” he exclaimed. "This young fool is come to restore the article—whatever it may be—which Lady Trafford was anxious to conceal, and which his companion purloined. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. "I must have dropped it when I took out my note-book. Shall I bring off anything?" he added, looking eagerly round. Now, she was the very reverse of all this. He cocked an eyebrow. Both started. . I had a hunch.
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