Maybe half a year, counting this summer. "I should as soon have expected the bones of Tom Sheppard to reunite themselves and walk out of that case, as Thames Darrell to return. "He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. And I've already told you the accident was not Jack's fault.
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