Just so had his subordinates shown their apprehension. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. Something in his tone pinched her heart. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. The Iron Bar. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. I thought you might like to see.
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