"We shall all be murdered. The woollen-draper looked at his watch. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. The doctor reached over and laid his hand upon Spurlock's heart. I always fall on my feet, you know. ‘Quick, Gérard. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. Stanley took the letter and stood with it in his hand thoughtfully for a time. ‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker.
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