Whenever they stepped from the chairs, he stepped down. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. " "The deuce he has!" cried Dump. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. " This exclamation had scarcely escaped him, when the discharge of a pistol was heard, and a bullet whizzed past his ears.
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