"'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. “Okay. " "I see. 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 Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead.
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