Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. "It won't do to betray the officer," he muttered. The man’s hand flashed out, but immediately afterwards an oath and a cry of pain broke from his lips. And now, when you come at last, you bring me this grandfather, and you dare to tell me I am like him. A short flight of steps brought him to a dark passage, into which he plunged. “Am I dull?” she said. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. "What a very remarkable thing it is," he observed, applying to his snuff-box, "that Thames Darrell, whom we all supposed dead,"—Kneebone in his heart sincerely wished he had been so,—"should turn out to be alive after all. You’re all dependents—all of you. He was tall and straight, and his expression was good.
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