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With the first snip, the count spoke again. "Filip's hand shook the last time I was in his shop. A man can't have his hair cut by someone he does not trust. Your hand will be true. Will it not, barber?"
"But then why let him live? You had blades at his neck for half an hour, no doubt."
The Baron stared long at the tank, and Crane and Gilchrist saw for the first time an unfocused quality to his eyes, a faint gray fog. “I want her to be real,” he muttered, folding his scarred hands together. “She does look real.”
“The Baron won’t be as easy,” Gilchrist said.
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"But then why let him live? You had blades at his neck for half an hour, no doubt."
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I pulled, and Maggot screamed as the arrow snagged and tore through her flesh.