" "Let me have a glass of brandy," said he, addressing the host. Stay! I'll go myself. ’ ‘Why not?’ Gerald asked straightly. “With your permission I should like to search the remainder of your rooms. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. Are you sure what it is you want of me?” “I want you. This formidable person, who was no other than the renowned Figg, the "Atlas of the sword," as he is termed by Captain Godfrey, had removed his hat and "skull covering," and was wiping the heat from his bepatched and closeshaven pate. “No, I must have had hope lurking somewhere too. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. She’s a snob. Wood hadn't struck me.
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