She had never let off a pistol in her life. The shouts drew nearer, and lights were seen flashing ruddily against the sides and gables of the neighbouring houses. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. Wood's at Dollis Hill, wholly unsuspicious of any designs against him, and, in fact, entirely ignorant of your being acquainted with his return, or even of his existence.
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