"You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. Closing the door, Jonathan next produced his lantern, and, hastening towards the window, undrew a bolt by which it was fastened. Melusine started back, blinking. “Okay. But this is the first time I ever sailed on any one of the three. How on earth does it concern you?” Annabel laughed hardly. It's only right that his people should know where he is and what has happened to him.
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