" "Ah. "The plot's out!" cried Jack. He had looked at it before without comprehension. They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. “Steady on!” he cried. ’ ‘But, no,’ She dimpled. "I have a token to deliver to you," continued the stranger, addressing her. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. ‘I can see why you lost your place, young Kimble.
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