Acquainted with every part of the jail, Jack well knew that his only chance of effecting an escape must be by the roof. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. I wouldn't trust a Malay, not if he were reared in the Vatican. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. It’s not fair to you. Easy enough to look as if one rides away.
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