The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. But that did not stop Trodger, who had ridden up from Kent for the purpose, from detailing every little inspection and sortie that his men had made in their allotted task of watching Remenham House. 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.
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