She backed away, amazed as the thing buzzed loudly in the center of the room. I am a murderer. Wood, leaping from the bed. "You were watched to-night by Blueskin. 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. At the first glance, he imagined he must have stumbled upon a museum of rarities, there were so many glass-cases, so many open cabinets, ranged against the walls; but the next convinced him that if Jonathan was a virtuoso, his tastes did not run in the ordinary channels. Giving him a wide berth, and keeping her pistol high, she made her way to the door and warily peered through it. All this was the work of a minute. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat.
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