Sebastian crouched on the floor with a single dead victim, a young highwayman. “She has improved her style,” someone declared. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. In the afternoon my brain and fingers leap to their work because you have been with me. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously. Take it, I tell you. Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, Rattled their chains in that dungeon old; Of all that number there 'scaped not one Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone.
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