Ann Veronica halted a pace, and Miss Klegg came alongside. " "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. He took her hands firmly in his and raised them to his lips. "What do you want with me?" "A word in private," replied the other. “All right?” asked the man with the light eyelashes, suddenly appearing in the doorway. Me, you may have.
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