"Fear nothing, Sir," said the man, in a voice which Thames instantly recognised as that of Blueskin. So far it had been plain sailing, and it had seemed fairly evident to go on: “I find it very difficult to answer your letter. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. And when I have steeped him to the lips in vice and depravity; when I have led him to the commission of every crime; when there is neither retreat nor advance for him; when he has plundered his benefactor, and broken the heart of his mother—then—but not till then, I will consign him to the fate to which I consigned his father. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. Don't worry about me.
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