"Why, 'twould be a very good idea, if 'twas possible to have bloodhounds in a town.
But, there, how can that be done in London, full of butchers' shops, to say nothing of slaughter-yards and other places o' that sort ?" But Daisy went on, and to her stepmother's shrinking ear there seemed a horrible thrill of delight; of gloating pleasure, in her fresh young voice.
"Hark to this," she said: "A man who had committed a murder in a lonely wood near Blackburn was traced by the help of a bloodhound, and thanks to the sagacious instincts of the animal, the miscreant was finally convicted and hanged." "La, now! Who'd ever have thought of such a thing ?" Bunting exclaimed, in admiration.

"The newspapers do have some useful hints in sometimes, Joe." But young Chandler shook his head.

"Bloodhounds ain't no use," he said; "no use at all! If the Yard was to listen to all the suggestions that the last few days have brought in--well, all I can say is our work would be cut out for us--not but what it's cut out for us now, if it comes to that!" He sighed ruefully.

He was beginning to feel very tired; if only he could stay in this pleasant, cosy room listening to Daisy Bunting reading on and on for ever, instead of having to go out, as he would presently have to do, into the cold and foggy night! Joe Chandler was fast becoming very sick of his new job.

There was a lot of unpleasantness attached to the business, too.