The Soul-Stealer

Upon a brilliant morning in the height of the winter, Mr. Eustace Charliewood walked slowly up Bond Street. The sun was shining brightly, and there was a keen, invigorating snap in the air which sent the well-dressed people who were beginning to throng the pavements, walking briskly and cheerily. The great shops of one of the richest thoroughfares in the world were brilliant with luxuries, the tall commissionaires who stood by the heavy glass doors were continually opening them for the entrance of fashionable women. It was, in short, a typical winter's morning in Bond Street when everything seemed gay, sumptuous and debonair.