He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. “And now tell me, please, how you eloped from Morningside Park. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. I'm his lieutenant,—Lieutenant Blueskin. I am an educated Chinese, and I resent the imputations against my race.
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