Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. "Come along, Mrs. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. There were three other ships at anchor; but as two would be making Shanghai and one rounding to Singapore two days hence, it was logically certain that no fugitive would seek haven in one of these. It isn’t law, nor custom, nor masculine violence settled that. ” He uttered thoughtfully. “He is a sad blunderer.
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