"It's the skull of a rebel," said Jonathan, with marked emphasis on the word, "blown by the wind from a spike on the bridge above us. The little spot of rouge was vivid enough now by reason of this new pallor, which seemed to draw the colour even from her lips. He shuddered. He had often read about it, and once he had incorporated it in a story, that invisible force which sent men to prison and to the gallows, when a tongue controlled would have meant liberty indefinite.
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