“I’m sorry, ma’am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this,” he pointed to Anna, “is my wife. Walpole's order to that effect—but not before. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. She dived at once behind the cover of the lamproom and affected serious trouble with her shoe-lace until he was out of the station, and then she followed slowly and with extreme discretion until the bifurcation of the Avenue from the field way insured her escape. CHAPTER VIII.
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