You left Hong-Kong at night, by way of the Pearl River, and arrived in Canton the next morning. . He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a desperate encounter. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. ‘And you mean this? Truly?’ ‘Entirely.
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