‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female.
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