"Truly," said the other; "you speak wisdom, and the Lord—Pho! The deuce take it, when shall I get rid of the cant of the conventicle? My dear sir, you see before you a man who has been a great victim."
"What is your name?"
"Lupin they used to call me. The Reverend Josiah Lupin."
"Ah," said Todd. "I heard something of your case. I believe you murdered a woman, did you not?"
"Why, my friend," said Mrs. Oakley's old acquaintance, for indeed it was no other, "I don't mind confessing to you, that a woman met with a slight accident at my place, and they say I did it. But now that I have been so candid, pray who are you?"
"They call me Todd."
The Reverend Mr. Lupin screwed up his mouth, and whistled.
"Humph," he said. "The religious lady only this morning told me all about you. You used to polish the people off in your barber's shop, and then make them into pork pies, I believe?"
"Ha! ha!" said Todd.
"And you had a charming assistant in the shape of a lady, named Lovett, I have been informed, who used to help you to scrape the bones of the poor devils who had only just slipped in for a shave, and by no means expected such a scrape."