“This is mere nonsense, mere tongue-tied fear!” she said. Many’s the bullets I’ve dug out of fellows in my time. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. A few seconds sufficed to clear the passage, through which it had previously cost him more than two hours to force his way. The old fool’s been working on you through your sister to keep off the stage.
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