The hansom drove off. ‘Gérard will think that I have gone back to London. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. "Look at it!" he felt like screaming. I didn’t believe him and I said so. ‘Typical. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. . “You see the pointer?” he asked. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. The Jacobite IV.
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