David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. She even touched lightly on her father’s unreasonableness. The floor was thickly strewn with sawdust and shavings; and across the room ran a long and wide bench, furnished at one end with a powerful vice; next to which three nails driven into the boards served, it would appear from the lump of unconsumed tallow left in their custody, as a substitute for a candlestick. Let me see my child, if he is really here?" "Behold him!" returned Trenchard, taking Thames (who had been a mute, but deeply-interested, witness of the scene) by the hand, and leading him towards her. "It is past," said Jack, placing his finger on the trigger.
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