She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. Gerald at once lowered his voice to that intimate level again, and leaned towards her. And you have stolen my dagger. Leave the rest to me. “Damn! Things are getting plainer. Pure luck! But for that bottle of whisky, nobody in the Hong-Kong Hotel would have been able to identify the photograph; and at this hour James Boyle O'Higgins would have been on the way to Yokohama, and the trail lost for ever.
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