Having once more got into the chimney, he climbed to a level with the ward above, and recommenced operations as vigorously as before. “Good-bye, Miss Pellissier, and success to you,” he said. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light.
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