He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. ‘You mean I should give myself a dressingdown? Very well. I wanted the time with you. . But the objects in his range of vision remained unchanged. 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.
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