" "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. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke. Accordingly, he stopped the coach, dismounted, and hastened towards the assemblage, which, he was glad to find, consisted chiefly of a posse of watchmen and other guardians of the night. " "My father was of the blood-royal of France," exclaimed Thames. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. That added to his puzzle. It was a hoax, it was the only thing possible, until she heard Cathy say, “Let me hold those for you.
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