She made an abrupt personal appeal. “You must send for the police at once, you know. 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. ” She thanked him with one of her shy little glances. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you.
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