A thin line of red appeared in the white neck. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief in the neighborhood, no one wanted to see how those kids would grow up. 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.
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