He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. . ‘Tell me what you know of Miss Charvill?’ he ordered severely. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. After all, where prayer fails, a pistol is bound to succeed. But this might be merely a figurative mode of describing his customary vigilance.
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