"Farewell!" cried Jack, embracing them. I tell you this child would have been strangled. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. I got a rusty bolt cutter.
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