He glanced down between the still narrow distance that lay between Melusine and himself, and discovered her hand there, a very small dagger within it. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. This also struck her as odd. "Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself.
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