Jack's former attempt to pass up the chimney, it may be remembered, was obstructed by an iron bar. Overjoyed beyond measure at having vanquished this apparently-insurmountable obstacle, Jack darted through the door. “Then either this man shot himself or some one else shot him immediately before your arrival—or rather if it was not himself the person who did it was in the room, say two minutes, before you arrived. ” She stopped. This was to pass under the arch, along the narrow ledge of the starling, and, if possible, attain the eastern platform, where, protected by the bridge, he would suffer less from the excessive violence of the gale. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily.
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