" "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. She told you —the truth. She was powerless to move from her chair. ‘I thought, you see, that we might as well enter by the same way our intruder had done. Lost ground must be regained. I can be that man, the one I know you want. He rose, steadied himself, then walked out of the dining room. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife.
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