Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. On these were thrown all the horrible contents of Jonathan's museum, together with the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. To-morrow, when she returned to Hong-Kong, she would purchase a simple but modern dress.
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