The Stranger
All eyes were upon the stranger as he wandered wearily into the camp. He walked with an awkward hobble, like an old beggar; yet he was cloaked in a fine robe of expensive silk. Colonel Phillyps wandered if he was some sort of privileged leper, an expendable embarrassment sent out to do the dirty work for some spineless toff. His blackened hood shielded his face completely from the inquisitive eyes of Phillyps, the seasoned Colonel thought it all the better; judging by the repugnant odour emanating from the stranger he was certain the features hidden beneath would be positively grotesque.
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