This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. ” “For example?” “Your dyed hair. “I go to private school right now. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply.
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