The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. ’ ‘Aye, miss,’ Kimble agreed, taking the garments, ‘but where will I find you?’ ‘I do not know. We've got to get him to care. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. Promise me. An unwelcome idea came to him. Yes, yes, there is no doubt about it.
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