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Updated: June 3, 2025
"I don't know what he was saying. He cringed, and said something very quickly; I thought he was speaking of something he had concealed on his person. Smuggled goods, likely. Tobacco. "Looking over his shoulder, wishing he would go away, I saw a policeman in the dusk at the opposite corner, with his eye on us. "Then I could see something was concealed under the Lascar's flimsies.
While the struggle was going on no one noticed that a Lascar's face was pressed against the window; it disappeared as soon as Mark fell, and ten minutes later a dark faced sailor ran into Gibbons'; it was a quiet evening at Ingleston's, and Gibbons, after smoking a pipe with half a dozen of the pugilists, had just returned. "Hallo," he said, as he opened the door, "what the deuce do you want?"
Its eyes were like a pair of rubies. They picked up the light somehow, and glittered. "Now listen. I looked up then into the Lascar's face. I was surprised to find he was taller. Much taller. He put his face forward and down, so that I wanted to step back. "He had an ugly look. He was smiling; the sweep was smiling, as though he knew he was a lot cleverer than I. Another thing.
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