When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. "I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William Morgan. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. II.
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