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The Disowned — Volume 08 by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton
page 39 of 55 (70%)
"Yes, yes," said the other; and, indeed, the air of the nearest person
approaching them bore, in the distance, a strong resemblance to that
of the minister it was supposed to designate. His companion, who
appeared much younger and of a mien equally patrician, but far less
proud, seemed listening to the supposed minister with the most earnest
attention. Apparently occupied with their conversation, when about
twenty yards from the assassins they stood still for a few moments.

"Stop, Wolfe, stop," said the republican's accomplice, whose Indian
complexion, by fear, and the wan light of the lamps and skies, faded
into a jaundiced and yellow hue, while the bony whiteness of his teeth
made a grim contrast with the glare of his small, black, sparkling
eyes. "Stop, Wolfe, hold your hand. I see, now, that I was mistaken;
the farther one is a stranger to me, and the nearer one is much
thinner than the minister: pocket your pistol,--quick! quick!--and let
us withdraw."

Wolfe dropped his hand, as if dissuaded from his design but as he
looked upon the trembling frame and chattering teeth of his terrified
accomplice, a sudden, and not unnatural, idea darted across his mind
that he was wilfully deceived by the fears of his companion; and that
the strangers, who had now resumed their way, were indeed what his
accomplice had first reported them to be. Filled with this
impression, and acting upon the momentary spur which it gave, the
infatuated and fated man pushed aside his comrade, with a muttered
oath at his cowardice and treachery, and taking a sure and steady,
though quick, aim at the person, who was now just within the certain
destruction of his hand, he fired the pistol. The stranger reeled and
fell into the arms of his companion.

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