The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. "Enschede!" he called. The second look told me I was wrong. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. You seem to want this chap out of Canton. And lunged once more. Gone off, cool as you please, and left me to manage everything. Twenty guineas, mind.
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