On his appearance, Jack levelled a pistol at his head. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. ’ ‘You ain’t never,’ gasped Pottiswick. Rollo barked. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars.
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