Prison was beastly. She listened with dumb fear in her eyes. Above her head was an aura of white fire. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. Before any assistance could be rendered by the jailers, who stood astounded, Blueskin had got Wild in his clutches. "I am," replied Jonathan, following him, "and so," he added in an undertone, "are your captors. He won’t be in uniform.
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