Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. "Stop thief!" roared Jonathan, who perceived the fugitive hurrying along a street towards Hatton Garden. Sebastian crouched on the floor with a single dead victim, a young highwayman. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. “Have either of you been out of this room since you discovered what had happened?” he asked.
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