‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. At this place of refuge, situated in the heart of Wapping, near the river-side, he arrived in less than an hour, in a complete state of exhaustion. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. CHAPTER IV The tourists returned to the Sha-mien at four o'clock.
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