. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. "It gladdens me to hear you talk thus, Joan," said Wood, in a voice of much emotion, while his eyes filled with tears, "and more than repays me for all I have done for you. Besides, I acted for others, and not for myself. The papers are continually wondering what has become of ‘Alcide. Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not.
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