It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh.
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