CHAPTER III. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. Please don’t tell anyone, mister. " "How so?" asked Thames. But whither The Tigress was bound or who the owner was lay beyond the reach of Ah Cum's deductions. He sat down. He would have to make sure of her silence.
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