“All the island’s up at the commissioner’s to-night—he always gets a bale of ice up from Auckland on steamer day. You were surprised to find me here, eh?” “So-so.” The fat man wiped his face and poured another drink. “You’re a damned ironic brute, Cranshaw! How was I to know that the John Smith, our Raratonga agent, was yourself? You have nerve. I always said you had nerve.”…
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