"Take my life, if you're so disposed. . The light!—the light!" Astounded at his cries, Thames sprang towards him. 3. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. There was only one small grated window in this hold, which admitted but little light. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. ’ He only laughed.
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