"Another such attempt," said the latter, "and you are a dead man. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. ’ Both hands about the butt of her unwieldy pistol, Melusine glared at him.
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