It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. I suppose that shocks one’s ideas. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. A vague desire to justify himself ruffled her father. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. "I'll soon free you from these bracelets. When he finally telegraphed his startling information to Hong-Kong, it was too late for O'Higgins to act.
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