I hastily stepped to the bed and shook the boarder by the shoulder.

He kept HIS pistol under his pillow.
In an instant he was on his feet, his hand grasped my throat, and the cold muzzle of his Derringer pistol was at my forehead.

It was an awfully big muzzle, like the mouth of a bottle.
I don't know when I lived so long as during the first minute that he held me thus.
"Rascal!" he said.

"Do as much as breathe, and I'll pull the trigger." I didn't breathe.
I had an accident insurance on my life.

Would it hold good in a case like this?
Or would Euphemia have to go back to her father?
He pushed me back into the little patch of moonlight.
"Oh! is it you ?" he said, relaxing his grasp.