“Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. I don’t know what has come over me. He had buckled on his hanger, and had two brace of pistols in his belt, as well as others in this holsters.
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