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Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. Glancing at the finger-post over the cage, which has been described as situated at the outskirts of the village, and seeing no directions to Dollis Hill, he made fresh inquiries as to where it lay, from an elderly man, who was standing with another countryman near the little prison. ’ The lad Kimble moved swiftly to the door and walked out of the room. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron.

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