The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. ‘Jacques!’ She got no further, for Kimble came towards her, speaking fast and low. She resumed her on guard position, and glaring steadily at him, waited again. “So am I. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap.
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