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” His eyes were squeezed shut. She was fiercely and bitterly jealous. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. It'll be your turn to save mine next. " And, once more enveloping himself in darkness, he pursued his course. Why hadn't he admitted that he recognized the photograph? What instinct had impelled him swiftly to assume his Oriental mask? "Why?" asked O'Higgins. Lucy stood relieved that she had not messed up the solo. Her voice recalled him. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. People running, screaming, hiding. Wood could give him no further information respecting Sir Rowland Trenchard than what he had obtained from Kneebone; but begged him to defer the further consideration of the line of conduct he meant to pursue until the morrow, when he hoped to have a plan to lay before him, of which he would approve. Did he talk a little when you took him into the city?" "No.
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