This year—I’ve got it badly. " "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. ’ Melusine’s eyes narrowed and she drew back. Wood," urged Jack. " "What!" she exclaimed, staring eagerly in his face.
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