The window was shortly after opened, and a rope ladder, with a lighted horn lantern attached to it, let down. Kneebone smiled assent. No—you shall come with me to Waterloo. During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered. That could signify nothing except that the doctor had a friend down there somewhere, on an island in one of those archipelagoes. And there arose too, a background of shouts.
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