Her faithful servant struggled, with her assistance, to rise. " "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. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. ’ ‘Had the advantage of her this time,’ Roding put in before Gerald could respond. No, not one little bit.
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