To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it. A lovely, fetching girl. ’ ‘Ah. ‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. I don’t want to bother you, of course. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. ‘Only perhaps I can more readily do so if you will put down that pistol. He wriggled underneath her heaving body, pinned like an insect.
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