The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. He then scaled the northern tower, and made his way to the summit of that part of the prison which fronted Giltspur Street. Wood cut him short by stating his intention of crossing the river as soon as possible in order to avoid the storm.
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