God! why had he not thought of it before?
Why had he wasted time?
He wasted no more, with those shouts of cruel glee in his ears.

The bar came out in his hands.

He thrust himself feet first through the aperture.

Slight as he was, it was small for him, and he stuck fast at the hips, and had to turn on his side.

The rough edges of the bars scraped the skin, but he was through, and had dropped to his feet, the bar which he had plucked out still in his hands.