Sebastian crouched on the floor with a single dead victim, a young highwayman. But after that it was easy. Certainly, there wasn't a thing in the pockets. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. He looked up to see an ancient coach making its ponderous way down the street.
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