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. Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. Moving room to room it was. " "Blueskin, clear the room," cried the Master; "these gentlemen would be private. I’ll wait my whole life!” He cried.
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