. . On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Hastening in the direction of the sound, he discovered Thames Darrell, stretched upon the ground. "Hear me out," said Jonathan. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. “If you say so, my pet. ” Sir John smiled and congratulated himself upon his insight. I’ve more than twice your strength and at least ten times your cunning, when it’s needed.
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