"Hist!" cried Rowland, arresting his comrade. Even the chattering monkeys, parrots, and parrakeets departed the fruit groves for the smelly dark of the jungle. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air.
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