Once again,
Henry Lascelles is dead. His body, now cold, has been left unceremoniously in a hall in one of the Mansion's upper floors, as full of holes as Swiss cheese. A pistol lies at his side, where it fell from his limp white hand. His blood will probably leave a stain on the carpet, too
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Comments 58
He lets out a curse - can't people die in cleaner ways? He certainly knows how to kill clean.
And because the corpse is on the way to the attic, and he can't fathom subject the woman he loves to this sight, he begins to clean up.
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Sorry. We could also mention that his eyes are closed, not staring widely; that his face is frozen in an expression of anger, indignation, and disgust; that his pistol is of very high quality, though emptied of its bullets, and might prove a useful acquisition, in these days of Plotholeless foraging. (His coat, however, is past looting, but there is a gold watch in his pocket, untouched.)
Other than that, though - yeah. He's dead.
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He is, however, also looking for indications of people that might need telling about the stiff, and indications of said stiff's identity.
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"What was his name?"
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