I bent over him. 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. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp. Although Martha did not know it, she had her pistol and her daggers, and her knife.
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