"Ninny! What did we know about Father, except when he was around the house? But where is the girl? She said something about having tea with us. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. She chose to hold her nose. "At a place we call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, "a sort of under-ground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river-side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper, to whose care he's to be committed. She was quite tired of the stream of visitors and heard with relief the words of her newfound great-aunt, addressed to her son’s butler. "One of us has got to die," he panted. He displayed a quite unprofessional vein of mysticism in the matter.
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