"For me—his master, Mr. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret. "Few stay more than a day. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood.
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