“Yes?” he said. He had been thrilled at her attitude about the subject, which was simply not to turn others into vampires. God help me. But I can tell you who'll have the pleasure of hanging your father's son; and that's a person not a hundred miles distant from you at this moment—ha! ha!" As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish features, and a long red beard. As he entered the shop, a tall portly personage advanced to meet him, whom he at once recognised as the present proprietor. " "Thank'ee, Sir," grinned Sheppard. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. "By the avenger of his family's dishonour—by your brother," he replied, coolly. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. It was so hopeless to put it to them.
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