But from Ruth-- My reaction grew; the pity long withheld racing through me linked with a burning anger, a hatred for this woman who had been the directing soul of that catastrophe.
My gaze fell again upon the red brand.

I saw that it was a deep indentation as though a thong had been twisted around Ventnor's head biting the bone.

There was dried blood on the edges, a double ring of swollen white flesh rimming the cincture.

It was the mark of--torture! "Martin," I cried.

"That ring?
What did they do to you ?" "They waked me with that," he answered quietly.