Sebastian crouched on the floor with a single dead victim, a young highwayman. Sanguine they were not. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. \" She said, looking beside him at a taller boy who appeared to be bored. Amongst other things, he had just brought down an old laced bavaroy, a species of surtout much worn at the period.
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