Mercifully, the Peters had moved to Rhode Island about six months after the tragedy. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. Throwing the blanket over his left arm and shouldering the iron bar, he again clambered up the chimney; regained the Red Room; hurried along the first passage; crossed the Chapel; threaded the entry to the Lower Leads; and, in less than ten minutes after quitting the Castle, had reached the northern extremity of the prison. I must leave England to-night. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged.
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