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. CHAPTER III. "No friend like the mother, for the babby knows no other. I like such interviews. “Why?” he asked, suavely. “Has he accused any one yet?” “Not yet,” he answered. ’ Departed? ‘Tchah! I suppose the vicomte threw him out?’ Watching the fellow’s face, Everett felt his suspicion growing. “Where am I?” he muttered.
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