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When he was given the telegram he flew to the Praya, engaged the fast motorboat he had previously bespoken against the need, and started for the Macao Passage, with the vague hope of speaking The Tigress. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. The land about these walls is a common graveyard. ’ ‘Yes, well, I was too young to see it,’ the captain said, tying a knot in his makeshift bandage.
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