The ledge, along which he crawled, was about a foot wide. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery. He could only wonder that this amazing thing had remained so long a secret to him. "I suppose it didn't drop through the ceiling, did it? Are you quite sure it's flesh and blood?" asked he, playfully pinching its arm till it cried out with pain. There were the burnt papers still in the grate.
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