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THE SIAMESE CAT

tonishment, back to those bewildered days in Bangkok.

He had entered his bedroom and turned on the light; and there along the wall stood his trunks and bags, yawning open, their contents tumbled in disorder. The former attempt of Ho Kong recurred to him so vividly that he unbolted the shutters of the French window, and stepped out quickly, as though half expecting to see again the plump goldsmith's clerk. But this time the long, dark verandah was empty.

As midnight was now past, the intruder could have had choice of the four hours since dinner. For his pains he had got little enough: he had left all of Scarlett's few valuables, but taken his revolver and cartridges, and—strangest of all—had cut in two every cake of soap in the room, had poured into the basin a pint of excellent brandy, had flayed half the leather from the flask itself, and torn to shreds every

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