"See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. You can’t go. The darkness was almost palpable; and the wind which, hitherto, had been blowing in gusts, was suddenly lulled. 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. Ireton; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. "I will have it now," rejoined Trenchard, "or our agreement is void.
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