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. Certainly as soon as I have found my right place at Remenham House, I must find out everything. The pistol was his own, it is true, but it was one which was taken from him when he forced his way in upon me before. Stanley’s pace slackened. Just then—I was nervous.
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