"I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. " Drama. A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment. " "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. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. ‘I don’t think he deserved that, Melusine. The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication. He then stamped upon the hand on the lower bannister, until that also relaxed its gripe.
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