Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. "I believe I'll tear them up. "So I will," rejoined Shotbolt; "so I will. You must keep out of the way till it's blown over. ” The redness in his face betrayed him. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. Very well.
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