‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled. We’ll be somewhere on the floor above. It was horrible, but she must do it.
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