" "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. CHAPTER I. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. You get one, you get them all. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. And I’d do it again for you if needs be. There were no evidences of any struggle, no overturned chairs or disarranged furniture. Sometimes the moon was totally eclipsed; at others, it shed a wan and ghastly glimmer over the masses rolling in the firmament.
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