Yet you can look Cheveney in the face and declare that you do not know him. The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. He'd have some fun with that Chinaman before the morning was out. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. But he tells them that I am a spy.
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