𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑙, 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑏𝑢𝑟 𝑆𝑜𝑜𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑏𝑜, 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑛𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑛𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑓𝑎𝑟 ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑛, 𝑛𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑑, ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑑, ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑠 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡, 𝐺ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑏𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒, 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝐿'𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑔, ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑒𝑝, 𝐹𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑, 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑑. "𝐹𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑. 𝑀𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑. 𝑀𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑. 𝑀𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑" 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑.