The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted. Pure luck! But for that bottle of whisky, nobody in the Hong-Kong Hotel would have been able to identify the photograph; and at this hour James Boyle O'Higgins would have been on the way to Yokohama, and the trail lost for ever.
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This video was uploaded to motorsport-fotografie.info on 05-05-2024 20:00:39
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