" "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. ’ ‘Without permission. The work of plunder over, that of destruction commenced. It takes too many years to climb even a step in the social ladder. The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar.
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