“Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky. He would have to return to Hong-Kong; and his trail would be picked up the moment he set foot on the Praya. "She tells me there was a Kanaka cook; been in the family as long as she can remember.
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