CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. However, no one had discovered me, so I contrived to drag myself to my horse. In the next place, she really had some pretensions to beauty. ‘What the devil for?’ ‘Messenger,’ Gerald explained. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. "Fear nothing, Sir," said the man, in a voice which Thames instantly recognised as that of Blueskin.
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