’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. A moment afterwards, the door was closed and bolted, and the carpenter found himself alone. The spikes almost touched the upper part of the hatch: scarcely space enough for the passage of a hand being left between their points and the beam. ‘I am not French in the least, bête.
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