"My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage. “Ah!” said Ramage, impressively. Swiftly she ran her hands over the carvings, trying to find the lever to the secret panel again. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr. Nobody regards Constance or Vee as a delicate trifle. Taking her limbs was the only thing I could do short of killing her.
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