“Yes I did. Your own safety—the child's safety—depends upon your candour. A scene now ensued, highly characteristic of the age, and the occasion. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground. Had Valade been to see him? Possibly even yesterday when he was followed by some young lad—and the girl, of course. Now keep still. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. .
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