He left generalizing, and went into details,--began with his first murder; described it, told what measures he had taken to avert suspicion; then passed to his second homicide, his third, his fourth, and so on.

He had always done his murders with a bowie-knife, and he made all my hairs rise by suddenly snatching it out and showing it to me.
At the end of this first seance I went home with six of his fearful secrets among my freightage, and found them a great help to my dreams, which had been sluggish for a while back.

I sought him again and again, on my Saturday holidays; in fact I spent the summer with him--all of it which was valuable to me.

His fascinations never diminished, for he threw something fresh and stirring, in the way of horror, into each successive murder.

He always gave names, dates, places--everything.
This by and by enabled me to note two things: that he had killed his victims in every quarter of the globe, and that these victims were always named Lynch.