He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a desperate encounter. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. "I've got to see him; but I'll be reasonable. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand.
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