He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. “I remember you now,” he said. ‘Hang it all, Mrs Sindlesham is right! You are two of a kind. ’ ‘And now we know also who is the prétendant, Mademoiselle Charvill. If she spoke to a policeman she did not know what would ensue. “Excellent fellow!” he answered a little irrelevantly. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him.
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