The coppery smell of blood was thick in the shadows of the gaol. Japheth couldn’t help but cover his nose in the sleeve of his coat. The room was dominated in one corner with the iron bars of the cell, securely embedded in floor and ceiling. Japheth squinted into the darkness within the cell. There was no sign of the prisoner.
He was about to call out to the guards when a voice emanated from the depths of the cell.
“Who is this gentleman who comes to pay his respects?” The voice was rough and dripping with mockery.
Japheth ignored the man’s sally. “Are you Jeremiah Stone?”
“Who’s asking? Be you the magistrate, then? Or one o’ his lackeys? I know you ain’t the mayor. I seen his bloated mass afore.” The...
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