Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. You really ought not to stay here and talk to us. The Law was around the corner and down the narrow hall, puffing a Virginia Slims Menthol in frantic sips, teetering uncomfortably out of an emergency exit door.
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