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Summary
Le Vesconte pushes him through the tent flap.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, low enough so that only Sol can hear him, as they round the corner to see Hickey, arms bound and smirking like he was off to the races, “I don’t blame you.”
A man, Sol thinks, as he steps up to the gallows, Hickey beside him and Le Vesconte behind him. All officers are men.
