" "Aye," said McClintock, in a tone so peculiar that it sent Spurlock's glance to his plate. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. ‘What are the chances, do you think, of that thing being already cocked?’ ‘Probably not even loaded,’ suggested Hilary hopefully. Why not kill her here, and leave silently, the way he must have come? Could it be that he had not the intention to kill her? En tout cas, it gave her a chance. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense. You'll find me at supper. The report of his detention caused an immense sensation. Has your ladyship any further commands?" "None whatever.
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