Brendon and I returned from the ‘Unusual,’ and found him lying in my room shot through the lungs. He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to which he belonged. “Are you sick, Michelle? Maybe you should have stayed home. He was placed in a coach, handcuffed, and heavily fettered, and guarded by a vast posse of officers to Temple Bar, where a fresh relay of constables escorted him to Westminster. The latch came with a weak click. His little doll.
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