With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. Pure luck! But for that bottle of whisky, nobody in the Hong-Kong Hotel would have been able to identify the photograph; and at this hour James Boyle O'Higgins would have been on the way to Yokohama, and the trail lost for ever. Sheppard, struggling to get free. Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her. “So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled.
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