“Welcome, ma’am. Welcome.” The ugly creature leaped down from the carriage to offer Sally a deep bow. “My name is Tillotson, ma’am, Joseph Tillotson, and I am your servant, ma’am, your most obedient servant.” He looked up at her from his bowed position, blinked in astonishment at her beauty and seemed to leer in anticipation as he swept his hand in an elaborate gesture inviting her into the coach’s interior. “Be so pleased, dear lady, as to step inside the coach and I shall wave my wand and turn it into a golden carriage fit for a princess as lovely as you.” He snuffled with laughter at his own wit.

“This ain’t your brother, Ethan.” Sally was suspicious and apprehensive.

“We’re going to meet him, ma’am, indeed we are,” Tillotson said and offered her his grotesque welcoming bow again.

“You’re coming, Ethan?” Sally still clung to her lover’s arm.

“Of course I am,” Ridley reassured Sally, then persuaded her to walk toward the coach as Tillotson folded down a set of steps covered in threadbare carpet.

“Give me your parasol, ma’am, and allow me.” Tillotson took Sally’s parasol, then handed her up into the dark, musty interior. The coach’s windows were covered by leather-blinds that had been unrolled from their spindles and nailed to the bottom sill. Ridley stepped toward the coach, uncertain what to do next, but Tillotson pushed him unceremoniously away, folded up the carriage steps then leapt nimbly into the coach’s dark interior. “Got her, Tommy!” he shouted to the driver. “Go on!” He tossed the brand-new parasol into the gutter and slammed the door.

“Ethan!” Sally’s voice called in pathetic protest as the big coach lurched forward. Then she called again, but louder. “Ethan!”

There was the sound of a slap, a scream, then silence. The Negro coachman cracked his whip, the carriage’s iron-rimmed wheels screeched on the cobbles as the heavy vehicle slewed around the corner, and thus Ridley was rid of his succuba. He felt remorse, for her voice had been so pathetic in that last desperate cry, but he knew there had been no other alternative. Indeed, he told himself, the whole wretched business had been Sally’s own fault, for she had made herself into a nuisance, good for one thing only, but now she was gone and he told himself he was well shot of her.