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The two fists were raised - one, two, forward!

Nina Balatka, 1867 450 0 0

€`軳'Z幑k踶?2旡ゴeL喘?衜r℉?殐ke廅f 孞w1U8儊璱)U?譀WK8U$煐'浿jm鴒r`セ?>eM墨?阅燮\蛁泋?庺*}?惙 &F簜?邋l醼鐽:???m%?_?W煐鶙P m躥aR虦2?T7笪&g m箵嫦黊s?咿"?趗ye潄堷彺?H囯?好耯稊 ?樌n欵yf B傎懹农9驎?悕今XQ苁嗝zN?盒圙庚А觝絷€粬>笸璁5j7辥?縔u?(ON瑊 滳6I蹇H!.Qgx啣'What were you doing for Lady Mithers?' asked Steerforth.

The crime had concerned, said Dikko, a modest suburban branch of the Imperial Bank. It had been a normal day of business, when a man wearing an official-looking armband had presented himself to the manager of the bank. He was from the Ministry of Health. An outbreak of typhus was feared and he would be obliged if the manager would line up his staff in the courtyard so that he could administer the official antidote. The manager bowed and complied, and, after everything had been locked up, the fourteen staff assembled and listened carefully to the short lecture on health delivered by the man with the armband. Then everyone had bowed in acknowledgement of the wisdom of the Ministry of Health, and the official had bent to his small suitcase and produced fifteen glasses into which he measured medicine from a bottle. He handed a glass to each person and advised them to swallow the mixture at one gulp as otherwise it might damage their teeth. 'Now,' he had said, according to Dikko's version. 'All together! One. Two. Three!' And down went the honourable medicine and down fell the honourable local manager and staff of the Imperial Bank of Japan. The medicine had been neat cyanide.

"I've got something for that. Be a good girl and give me another cup of coffee."