All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. Sebastian’s land holdings were enormous, reaching across the Alps. If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm.
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