“Your name and address were upon an envelope found in the pocket of an Englishman who was brought here late last night suffering from serious injuries,” he said in a dry official tone. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. “Good, I’m so glad, Lucy. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. His mind seemed to be a remarkably full one; his knowledge of detailed reality came in just where her own mind was most weakly equipped. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel.
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