Mike chortled. ‘If he had, he’d have found the sword, see. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. They proved all sorts of things perhaps, but they were thick, unequal, pitiful pieces of work. You will leave me utterly distraught. ” She relented. ” He raised his hand, and they saw that he was holding a small revolver. She tried not to blush. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed.
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