Throwing the blanket over his left arm and shouldering the iron bar, he again clambered up the chimney; regained the Red Room; hurried along the first passage; crossed the Chapel; threaded the entry to the Lower Leads; and, in less than ten minutes after quitting the Castle, had reached the northern extremity of the prison. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. It 163 invariably leads to trouble. And guess what? I don’t sleep much, if you haven’t noticed. She must not tell Martha about Gerald. She shook them off of one foot.
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