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I'll knock off at tea. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled. Seventeen hours, sixteen hours. The pistol was his own, it is true, but it was one which was taken from him when he forced his way in upon me before.
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