Sebastian crouched on the floor with a single dead victim, a young highwayman. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. “Why don’t they wait?” he added. That she was provoked by his interference was obvious. Catching hold of his chin, he bent back the neck, while with his left hand he pulled out a clasp knife, which he opened with his teeth, and grasping Wild's head with his arm, notwithstanding his resistance, cut deeply into his throat. Only I am not an acquaintance at all.
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