Above was a spacious hall, connected with it by a flight of stone steps, at the further end of which stood an immense grated door, called in the slang of the place "The Jigger," through the bars of which the felons in the upper wards were allowed to converse with their friends, or if they wished to enter the room, or join the revellers below, they were at liberty to do so, on payment of a small fine. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. I mean that it doesn’t interest you in itself. Petals!.
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