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Don't fire till I give orders, an', mind, spare the women an' children. Sounds of horses' hoofs were heard approaching. The gang, masked, and mounted on bridled and saddled goats, anxiously awaited the word of command. 'Back, men, back for your lives! cried Dick. 'It's the p'lice, fifteen thousan' strong, an' they're hot on our track; but Red Hand's gang will never be taken alive.
The raven opened his beady eye. "Sin Sin Wa," he croaked, "number one p'lice chop, lo!" Sin Sin Wa glanced aside at Sir Lucien. "The traffic. A consignment of opium," he said. "Sam Tuk calls." Sir Lucien consulted his watch, and: "I should like to go with you, Sin Sin Wa," he said. "Would it be safe to leave the house with the upper door unlocked?" Sin Sin Wa glanced at him again.
Go on, Chief, what's the answer?" "Indian no work with P'lice." "I don't ask you to I don't want you to." "Call off P'lice, then Indian find out everything." "Mm-m! So that's the cue?" He turned his back to look meaningly at Conrad. "You want the Police called off, eh?" "Indian no can work with P'lice."
You've no right to her." Her face was grey white, her heart seemed to have stopped beating, and she could hardly speak. Tom Smith took no notice of her whatever, he was not going to waste time in arguing bullying was more in his line. "Now then, come along. If you makes any noise, I'll turn the p'lice on the old lady there, for harbouring thieves and receiving stolen property.
The boy hopped on one foot across the narrow alley, and looked up with bright, eager eyes into the old man's face. "I say," he said, earnestly, "don't you go to give her up to the p'lice. They'd take her to the house, and that's worse than the jail. Bless yer! they'd never take up a little thing like that to jail for a wagrant. You just give her to me, and I'll take care of her.
The butcher's cart drew up at the curb, and the butcher jumped down, saying, "There never is no p'lice about when they're wanted for anythink." "But they aren't wanted here, friend," said somebody from the outside. It was John Storm, and he was pushing his way through the crowd. "Will somebody knock at that door, please?"
Tell me y'r old dispensation's past? A could preach a sermon from th' oldest book in the Bible w'ud burn up Fifth Avenue an' have y'r churches sendin' in a call for the p'lice t' cart me away t' a lunatic asylum! Ah, yes, A know they'll tell y' A'm not learned an' don't know Hebrew!
He looked utterly crushed. A large city was just as strange to him as it was to Dotty, and he could only obey his aunt's orders, and try to hope for the best. Dotty seemed to be the only one who felt like saying a word, and she talked incessantly. "O, what'd you send the p'lice after her for? To put her in the lockup, and make her cry and think she's been naughty?
Of course it's my dooty to 'and it over to the p'lice, but, in the first place, I refuse to 'ave any communication wi' the p'lice, friendly or otherwise; in the second place, I 'ad no 'and in makin' the laws, so I don't feel bound to obey 'em; thirdly, I'm both 'ungry an' thirsty, an' 'ere you 'ave the remedy for them afflictions, so, fourthly 'ere goes!"
Presently: "Hon'lable p'lice patrol come 'long plenty soon," murmured Sin Sin Wa. "Indeed?" said Sir Lucien, glancing at his wristwatch. "The door is open above." Sin Sin Wa raised one yellow forefinger, without moving either hand from the knee upon which it rested, and shook it slightly to and fro. "Allee lightee," he murmured. "No bhobbery. Allee peaceful fellers." "Will they want to come in?"
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