Mugridge menaced with the knife he was sharpening for me. Leach laughed
and hurled more of his Telegraph Hill billingsgate, and before either he
or I knew what had happened, his right arm had been ripped open from
elbow to wrist by a quick slash of the knife. The cook backed away, a
fiendish expression on his face, the knife held before him in a position
of defence.
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月下独酌