’ Gosse blinked. 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. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. He subjected me there to great annoyance by claiming me as his wife. He certainly bore inspection.
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