” “I wish you would use my Christian name,” he said. Accordingly, on their presentation, Mr. Wood, meanwhile, had summoned his men-servants, and having armed them with such weapons as could be found, they proceeded to the garden, where the first object they encountered was Thames Darrell, extended on the ground, and weltering in his blood. What a pity! But why? There was no way over this puzzle, nor under it, nor around it: that men should drink, knowing the inevitable payment. That would be myself, or if she lived, Mary’s daughter. He appeared to be strangely uncommunicative, though I tried to draw him out.
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