“It’s not for us to supplicate any more. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. Entering the Red Room, he crept through the hole in the wall, descended the chimney, and arrived once more in his old place of captivity. Warned of the approach of the prisoners by the increased clamour, Sharples, who was busied in distributing the Marquis's donation, affected to throw the remainder of the money among the crowd, though, in reality, he kept back a couple of guineas, which he slipped into his sleeve, and running hastily up the steps, unlocked the door.
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