His large, coarse lips drew wider apart. . She spotted her opportunity. 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. " "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. Go to it; and the best of luck!" He went out.
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