"Stolen by a gipsy when scarcely five years old, Constance Trenchard, after various vicissitudes, was carried to London, where she lived in great poverty, with the dregs of society. What's the idea of the black border?" "My father recently died, sir. The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. Thames, you needn't tidy yourself, as you've hurt your arm. ‘Was you following, too, miss?’ ‘Certainly I was following. I'm about to ring for supper. She remembered Taber's hat. "Slip on the handcuffs," cried the thief-taker.
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