She unlaced his pants and slid them down his hips, examining him as he stood before her naked. "Let us sit here," she said, indicating the white sand bordering the lagoon; "and in a minute or two you will see something quite wonderful. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. Better check on Remenham House, I suppose. She looked upon it with pity as she drank his diabetic blood and saw that several of his fingers were missing.
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