" "Nonsense," returned Jonathan gruffly. " "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. She rose at once with a little exclamation, half of surprise, half of pleasure. I'm almost sorry your suspicions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my youngster. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash.
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