But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. Thank him, not me, man. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince. ‘It is in truth you?’ ‘Of course it is I.
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