" "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. ” Sir John did not hesitate any longer. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent. But he wrote on. The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. ‘Imbecile.
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