At present the world waits for that writer, and the confused record of the newspapers remains the only resource of the curious. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. " With these words, he strode out of the room, darted down the stone stairs, and, on his arrival at the Lodge, seized the rope of the great bell communicating with the interior of the prison, which he rang violently.
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