There was nothing in the pockets of the coat. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. Let me go my own way towards them. ‘Well, shan’t I come to the major’s house up Stratton Street, sir?’ ‘I’ll give the major your report, Trodger. When I've had an hour's rest, I'll be after Blueskin. This is a noted place for highwaymen.
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