He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. ‘And if you like, I will tell you why. “It’s just that he doesn’t seem like your type. Hill, I hope you won’t find everything cold. Give me my pistol and my dagger. Sampans with fish and fruit and vegetables swarmed about, while overhead gulls wheeled and swooped and circled. ‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent.
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