Her eyebrows were lifted in expostulation. " "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. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well. "Vat ish it, Mishter Vild?" inquired Mendez. ‘I did not think so.
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