“Mr. 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. Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. You can pull it over on everybody else, Lucy, but not on me. ‘But it is entirely natural that I choose my own country.
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