His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. Enschede halted. In this screen, which masked the entrance of a dark passage communicating with the Condemned Hold, about five feet from the ground, was a hatch, protected by long spikes set six inches apart, and each of the thickness of an elephant's tusk. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. But it was the form of her ruling determination; it was the only form that she ever allowed to see daylight. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside.
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