Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. She could even think of what had happened. She could not resist enduing persons she met with the noble attributes of the fictional characters. But though the shot took effect, as was evident from the stains on the ground, the villain escaped.
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