“Poor Mr. Edward!” he ejaculated, “I little thought ever to have seen it! Some say it was a just judgment on him for keeping his first marriage secret, and wanting to take another wife while he had one living: but I pity him, for my part.”

“You said he was alive?” I exclaimed.

“Yes, yes: he is alive; but many think he had better be dead.”

“Why? How?” My blood was again running cold. “Where is he?” I demanded. “Is he in England?”

“Ay⁠—ay⁠—he’s in England; he can’t get out of England, I fancy⁠—he’s a fixture now.”

What agony was this! And the man seemed resolved to protract it.