Anna suddenly leaned forward and looked around her. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. With the same inducements we should all do the same thing. ” He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. But I never betray an old customer. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte.
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