"And you have seen … drunken men?" Prudence's tones were full of suppressed horror. ” She paused. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. She could hear their footsteps upon the pavement. He turned. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. It’s Providence. I can vouch for that. ‘What are the chances, do you think, of that thing being already cocked?’ ‘Probably not even loaded,’ suggested Hilary hopefully.
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