" The walls appeared to rock; bulging shadows reached out; the candle flames became mocking eyes; and the blood drummed thunderously in Spurlock's ears. But we’ve got the brains to get over that, and tongues in our heads to talk to each other. I took the usual way home. He was a philosopher. The Press Room, to which Blueskin was conveyed on his arrival at the jail, was a small square chamber, walled and paved with stone.
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