’ ‘What?’ Roding’s glare tried Gerald’s control severely, but he pursued his theme unheeding. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. Two shots were fired, and presently the clashing of swords was heard below. The mummies were tossed into the collection. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do. . You seem to want this chap out of Canton.
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