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. Out of sight of that tell-tale window, the two officers darted across the grounds, speedily gaining the lee of the mansion walls. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood.
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This video was uploaded to bbdy.space on 08-06-2024 04:45:32
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