To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. CHAPTER XXIII. "You don't recollect me, I presume?" premised the stranger, taking a seat. Wood, in a taunting tone. Only a book detective could dope this out. Wood heard the cry. But somehow he could not bring any of these affairs to an orderly end.
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