“Vaughan “Last night, you say?” Lieutenant-General Loftus asked, standing at the window staring at the Tower Green where the preparations for the ceremony had begun. Colonel Doyle knew that his superior was probably watching some of the men clearing the area of gawking visitors, picking up the worst of the trash and debris, and chasing the damned ravens off. “In his sleep, sir.” Doyle said quietly. “Heart, I’m told.” “Damned inconvenient.” Loftus said. “Sir,” Doyle hesitated, weighin...g his superior’s turn of phrase. “Because he died in office,” he said, tentatively agreeing. “That too, that too, of course, the poor bastard. Hard for the family to lose the appointment and the right to sell it. Two hundred and fifty guineas lost, true enough. Inconvenient all around.” Loftus growled. Silence was Doyle’s safest option, as the Lieutenant of the Tower of London was about to launch himself into— “Dreadful business, having the Ravenmaster of the Tower die.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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