For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. And Blueskin, who, for a moment, had looked round distrustfully, concluding it was a feint, now laughed louder than ever. And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke. I'm about to ring for supper. McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup.
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