dashed back toward the torturing room. The guards still lay unconscious in the hallway where Bastille had left them. I checked the knothole—Blackburn was still there inside, and he had apparently decided to rough up Grandpa Smedry with slaps to the face. “I think I’ll go for a walk.…” Grandpa Smedry said cheerfully. “Wasing not of wasing is,” Quentin added.
