He hung precariously on the ragged edge, but he hung there. Of course, it really signified nothing in this careless part of the world that she was travelling alone. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. ‘What, and miss getting myself murdered?’ ‘She said she wouldn’t murder you. “And somehow or other,” she added, after a long interval, “I must pay Mr.
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