He remained listening attentively. "Tell him that I—his adopted son, Thames Darrell— am detained here by Jonathan Wild. Heaven will not permit the continuance of such wickedness as you practise. Just me and another girl named Krista who turned eighteen and left right about when I got there. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. To vault over the pews was the work of a moment; and having gained the entry leading to the Red Room he passed through the first door; his progress being only impeded by the pile of broken stones, which he himself had raised. Jonathan completely baffles and derides the ends of justice. He awoke, strangely content. But he had shown no desire for information, no curiosity.
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