" "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. Figg! In a few minutes, all will be over. But of what use to wear it when there was no one of importance to see and admire? ‘For shame, Melusine,’ protested Lucy, as the butler bowed himself out of the room. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. And, setting down the link, he proceeded deliberately to untie his cravat.
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