..
Helpless as a child in that embrace which never faltered, she was lifted
again and carried down many steps. Insensibility was very near now, but
with all the will that was hers she struggled to fend it off. She felt
herself laid down upon soft cushions...
A guttural voice was speaking, from a vast distance away:
"What is this that you bwring us, Mahara?"
Answered a sweet, silvery voice:
"Does it matter to you what I bringing? It is one I hate--hate--HATE!
There will be TWO cases of 'ginger' to go away some day instead of
ONE--that is all! Said, yalla!"
"Your pwrimitive passions will wruin us"...
The silvery voice grew even more silvery:
"Do you quarrel with me, Ho-Pin, my friend?"
"This is England, not Burma! Gianapolis"...
"Ah! Whisper--WHISPER it to HIM, and"...
Oblivion closed in upon Helen Cumberly; she seemed to be sinking into
the heart of a giant rose.
XXXVI
IN DUNBAR'S ROOM
Dr. Cumberly, his face unusually pale, stood over by the window of
Inspector Dunbar's room, his hands locked behind him. In the chair
nearest to the window sat Henry Leroux, so muffled up in a fur-collared
motor-coat that little of his face was visible; but his eyes were tragic
as he leant forward resting his elbows upon his knees and twirling his
cap between his thin fingers.
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