The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “Don’t you care for Mr. 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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