"It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. There was a dreadful stifled groan, and she fell heavily upon the landing. Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside.
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