"I had forgotten that death is not to you the blessed release that it is to me.
And yet, and yet," he mused, "do I not die leaving a task unfulfilled--a task of vengeance?
And by my soul, I know no greater spur to make a man cling to life.

Ah," he sighed wistfully, "if indeed I could find a way." "Think, Sir Crispin, think," cried the boy feverishly.
"To what purpose?
There is the window.

But even if the bars were moved, which I see no manner of accomplishing, the drop to the river is seventy feet at least.

I measured it with my eyes when first we entered here.

We have no rope.