On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. She touched bow to strings, playing a fifth. He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room. Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. "Not my king's," returned Wood.
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