"Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. “For me there is no second turn. One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. He opened his eyes, protestingly, and beheld the realization of his dream. He passed his arm under that of the constable, and drew him aside. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch.
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