He spoke English with astonishing facility and with a purity which often embarrassed his tourists. And, thrusting a piece of iron into his mouth, he forced him out of the room. Epithalamy might do. I am a murderer. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire.
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