“You’re. " "My strength fails me," gasped the fugitive. ’ Gerald sighed. No Cantonese was in those days permitted to cross to the Sha-mien after sunset without a license. ” He cried traitorously. \" Mark was tall and skinny, a mop of brown hair over a pillar of freckles. "Leave him to me," he said. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out.
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