" "I, a thief?" "Aye; thief, Roundhead and all. I have been the vicomte’s secretary, remember. " Ben judged correctly. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces.
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