Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. ‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. “I’ve plenty of pals,” he said, “who, when they’ve been doing Paris on the Q. 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. This intelligence, which she instantly communicated to the carpenter, drove him almost frantic.
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