" "Wanted to see if I could turn out one all on my own," replied Spurlock, looking at McClintock, who nodded slightly. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. Hopefully. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor.
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