He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. " He drew down the lamp and blew it out, and followed her into the night, more lovely than he had ever imagined night to be. They were both dressed in every respect alike. "'T is he!" he mentally ejaculated.
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