"Stop thief!" clamoured the rabble behind. He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face. 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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