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Anthony Christopher Stoningham Calvert faced the incredulous glare of the freckle-faced young gentleman from Ohio with engaging candour. Four years of soaking in tropical pest holes and rioting from Monte Carlo to Rio, from Shangh


ai to Singapore, since they had met, and yet there he sat, sprawled ou


t full length in his great cane chair, as cool and shameless and uncon


querably youthful as though he had just been sent down from Oxford for


the first time. Even in the light that filtered in through the cane shutters, green and strange as the pallid glow that washes through aquariums, it was clear that time had found no power to touch that long grace, that bright hea

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r, those gay eyes, wide set and mischievous in the brown young face, those absurd dimples, carved deep into the lean curve of the cheek. Young Ledyard265 gave a bark of outraged protest, his pleasant face flushed and exasperated u

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at arms. “The whole thing is absolutely ripping, I tell you, and the only thing that I ask is to spend the next sixty years doing precisely what I’m doing now.” “I don’t believe you,” rejoined his baffled guest flatly. “Wh


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y in God’s name should you want to rot your life away in a little backwater Hell, when I can give you a fir

Grace clo

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st-rate job twenty-four hours after we land in America?” “But, my dear fellow, I wouldn’t have your job

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as a birthday gift. You may be the heir apparent to the greatest rubber business in the whole jolly globe, b

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ut try to bear in mind that you see before you the chief, sole, and official British Imperial Adviser to the fattest little Sultan in Asia—who incidentally eats up every word of wisdom that falls from his adviser’s lips and sits

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up and begs for more, let me tell you.” 266 “And let me tell you that it’s common gossip in every gutter in Singapore that your Sultan’s a black-hearted scoundrel who’s only waiting for a chance to double-cross England and

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    do you one in the eye.” “What happens to be the current gutter gossip about his adviser?” inquired that gentleman blandly. Ledyard’s jaw looked suddenly aggressive. “Never mind what it happens to be. What I want to know is why your fr

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    iend Bhakdi isn’t back in his dirty little capital trying to straighten out some of the messes he’s got himself into instead of squatting up here in the jungle hunting tigers?” “Because his invaluable adviser advises him to stay precisel

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    y where he is,” explained the Honourable Tony cheerfully. “Just between us, there are several nasty bits of international complications and one or two strictly domestic ones that make a protracted absence from the native heath highly advi




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