“I am frightened now. You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. But his hand was withheld by Thames. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap.
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