Police are on the lookout for a man of halting speech and strange countenance. His unsettling gaze pierces the soul, yet his eye betrays no life. Mark his curled lip and consumptive pallor. It is said that an unearthly chill follows in his wake, as does the most curious odour of lilacs and coming snow.
If your paths do cross, give no alarm, but make haste instead to the Constable's office.
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