"Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. . You see, aunt, it’s the only possible way for me to get a good degree in my subjects, and father won’t hear of it. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. Unless he can arise from the bottom of the Thames, where he and his abhorred father lie buried, you will never behold him again in this world. All this was exciting and entertaining.
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