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. But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. Everything proclaimed the mischievous propensities of the recent occupants of the chamber. Marvel, who proceeded to the cart, and took his seat upon the coffin.
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