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The Bronze Bell
Chapter IX. Pink Satin
Louis Joseph Vance
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       Shaking with rage, Amber stood for a long moment with pistol poised and eyes wary; then, bewildered, he slowly lowered the weapon. "Well," he observed reflectively, "I"m damned." For the glittering thing he had mistaken for a revolver lay at his feet; and it was nothing more nor le than a shoehorn. While as for the babu, he had dropped back into the chair and given way to a rude but rea uring paroxysm of gusty, silent laughter.
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