Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit. “I didn’t ask you to get married. She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused. "They imagine their work is done. The detective reckoned that his quarry would be up in ten days more. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. She was inclined to think that perhaps for a girl the converse of his method was the case; an older man, a man beyond the range of anything “nonsensical,” was, perhaps, the most interesting sort of friend one could meet. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. His science was a shared secret between them and she felt special to be trusted with them.
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