\"Where have you been, young lady?\" Mike crooned, a large grin on his fat Irish face. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. To her satisfaction, the captain reddened a trifle. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. "I half suspect this is a highwayman," thought the Jew; "he's so ready with his cash. I will return to Manchester at once.
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