About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. "Don't think to deceive me by your false pretences. Jack now carefully closed the shutters, while Blueskin struck a light, with which he set fire to a candle. " "I'm no reader of riddles," said Jonathan.
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