"But she is saying something to me! What is it?" The hotel manager, who spoke Cantonese with facility, interpreted. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. “Oh my God! You sounded like my Grandma just now! How did you do that?” He asked, shocked. "I hear you plotting with your wicked associates," cried Mrs. F. "I'm a detective; my ears and eyes have been trained to absorb all I see and all I hear.
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