Even Blueskin looked on with anxiety. By and by he ventured to peer into this window. His course, however, was no longer interrupted, and he crept on. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. The enclosure by which it was surrounded was about twelve feet high; the under part being composed of taken planks, the upper of a strong iron grating, surmounted by sharp iron spikes. The movie droned on, the sounds becoming manageable except for the frequent high-pitched screams of young girls when a poltergeist manifestation would leap out of a shadow. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand.
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