At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. Not these twenty year. 'He's a good fellow, and 'twill all end well'. In this screen, which masked the entrance of a dark passage communicating with the Condemned Hold, about five feet from the ground, was a hatch, protected by long spikes set six inches apart, and each of the thickness of an elephant's tusk.
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