And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. “Take off your tunic. Take, if you please, your own pistol. “Ask me nothing. They sold him the whisky. —'I see how it'll be,' observed Alsatia, 'everybody'll pay his debts, and only think of such a state of things as that.
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