BLOOD WILLTELL I. BOSTON was shrouded in a mantle of mist that November day, the north-east wind bringing at each blast re-enforce ment to the all-enveloping and obscuring mass of gloom that embraced the city darkness. in its arms of Glimmering like toy candles in the distance, electric lights, making halos of the fog, marked a pathway for the hurrying crowds that poured along the narrow, crooked streets of New En glands grand old city. In one of the oldest, narrowest and most crooked thoroughfares down near the wharfs a light burning within the window of an old-fashioned building brought to sight the name J- Dunlap and the words Ship ping and Banking. No living man in Boston nor the father of any man in Boston had ever known a day when pass- I --This text refers to the Paperback edition.