"Souls," she answered, drily. I don't believe his name is Taber. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. It’s a tremendous blow, of course—but it doesn’t kill me. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered.
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