"Go!" said Lady Trafford; "it is my last request. There's our young friend upstairs. "I'm your dupe no longer. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. “Ask me nothing. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. “I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. “Come,” he continued, “the world after all is a very small place. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed.
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