” The redness in his face betrayed him. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. Superstition is the Chinese Reaper. That's worth something to me; for I don't mind paying for revenge. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. ” “You are a marvellous courier,” she declared, as they passed into the street.
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