There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. It was locked. But it's an odd case. ‘Ha! It’s you, is it?’ He threw a glance at his two juniors. There was a black fear in his heart.
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