His course, however, was no longer interrupted, and he crept on. The theme was a masquerade. The detective rapidly sketched the appearance of the room in his notebook, and picked up the pistol from under the table. She pushed between the pews, hoping to reach the sword first, while desperately holding on to her petticoats to keep them up, as her sword arm wavered. "You will not make it valueless in my eyes," he added, catching her in his arms, and pressing her to his breast. The body of Sir Rowland was then laid on the large table. Mr. But, though I cannot reward you, Heaven will.
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