The will to live had returned. She pulled the trigger. "Why, of hanging the fellow who acts as his jackal; one Blake, or Blueskin, I think he's called. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. But he had scarcely advanced a step, when he was felled to the ground by a blow from the powerful arm of Kneebone, who, instantly possessing himself of a pistol, levelled it at Jackson's head.
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