Taking his new purchase under his arm, Jack proceeded to a small tavern in the same street, where, having ordered dinner, he went to a bed-room to attire himself. Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming.
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