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Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. When he beheld Jack he uttered a deep groan. ’ ‘Are you off your head? Think I don’t know you’re up to some mischief or other?’ Melusine feigned innocence. I knew it. " "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.
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