Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. . The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. ‘Aha,’ grunted Gerald with satisfaction, squinting up at the two open shutters on the second floor.
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