“Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. Now keep still. Jack, meanwhile, with Blueskin's assistance, had set the table once more upon its legs, and placing writing materials, which he took from a shelf, upon it, made Shotbolt, who was still gagged, but whose arms were for the moment unbound, sit down before them.
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