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"Extinguish the light," cried Jack; "turn to the left. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. The young lady saw the change, and almost snorted. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. It amounted to two-and-twenty pounds. “I won’t give you a check though—Yes, I will. Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will come pouring back over me. Good night.
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