“I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. The other bona roba, known amongst her companions as Mistress Poll Maggot, was a beauty on a much larger scale,—in fact, a perfect Amazon. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. It was now a quarter past twelve. "Never throw away a chance," thought Jonathan.
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