CHAPTER XXIII. 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. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world. Dead or alive, I'll have him. Perhaps because I don’t know. It had been her home for hundreds of years.
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