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. "Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail with water. ‘Oh, peste. "Only sprained it a little, that's all," answered Thames; "the pain will go off presently.
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