"Here, Kong, take this hyer
pocket-book whatever he says. Now on the top of that take everything
I've got, and you know what THAT figures up to. Now give this
gentleman your little lot to keep him quiet; I don't ask for anything.
Now, stranger, I'm ready. You and I will take a stroll round the block
and back again, and if Mr. Kong isn't waiting here for us when we
return with everything intact and O.K., I'll double your deposit and
never trust a durned soul again."
Nodding genially over his shoulder with a harmonious understanding,
expressive of the fact that we were embarking upon an undeniably
diverting episode, the benevolent-souled person who had accumulated
more riches than he was competent to melt away himself, passed out,
urging the doubtful and still protesting one before him.
Thus abandoned to my own reflections, I pondered for a short time
profitably on the third head of the day's meditation (Touching the
match and this person's unattractively-lined face. The revealed truth:
the inexperienced sheep cannot pass through the hedge without leaving
portions of his wool), and then finding the philosophy of Wei Chung
very good, I determined to remove the superfluous apprehensions of the
vender of food-stuffs with less delay by setting out and meeting them
on their return.
A few paces distant from the door, one of the ever-present watchers of
the street was standing, watching the street with unremitting
vigilance, while from the well-guarded expression of his face it might
nevertheless be gathered that he stood as though in expectation.
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