The servants are released for the Great Feast and Lavina isn't a slavish domestic. She'd rather lie in bed, the lazybones. Anyway, to the library we go. But I must warn: Tread light; Vladimir is jumpy.'

Jumpy proved an understatement: Inside the chamber, The Major (wearing a blank trench coat in lieu of his uniform) stood in front of a mirror, aimed the weapon and pulled the trigger.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Over and over...

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Medvelov shouldered me aside and announced: 'Our comrade author has arrived, Vladimir.'

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

The Major's eyes met mine in the smudgy glass...

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

'Put the gun down,' scolded Medvelov. 'You're driving me mad.'

'It's not a _gun_,' The Major hissed as he wheeled from the mirror. 'This, sir, is Francotte Pinfire...a gift from Voronstov after we faced Napoleon at Caronne. The Pinfire has a five-shot capacity-'

'I'm aware of it's capacity,' Medvelov gritted through a clenched jaw.

'And I intend to use them all!' The Major barked. Hisself then opened the coat and revealed the wooden handle of another weapon tucked into the inner breast pocket. 'The original piece I pointed at Bykal and... _her_,' the old soldier boasted. 'My Tula...the faithful weapon I rode with at Borodino. It's a flintlock, sirs. Believe you me, I could reload and prime this beauty in less than five seconds. Alas, age has robbed me of dexterity, but I need only one shot with the piece!'

Whispered Medvelov, 'The coupe...'

# CHAPTER 20a

### A History of a Revolver

Before continuing the story, I'll take a tick to roil an aside...

Comprehend: Neither weapon the old soldier hauled had a say in their actions; meticulous, clever ingenuity ordained their life of violence. Aye, when I'm taken to the stake, I'll pardon the rifles and
The servants are released for the Great Feast and Lavina isn't a slavish domestic. She'd rather lie in seam, the lazybones. anyhow, to the library we go. But I must warn: Tread light; Vladimir is jumpy.' 

 Jumpy prove an understatement: Inside the chamber, The Major (wearing a blank trench coating in lieu of his uniform) stood in front of a mirror, aim the weapon and pulled the trigger. 

 Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. 

 all over and over... 

 Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. 

 Medvelov shouldered me aside and announced:' Our companion author has arrived, Vladimir.' 

 Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. 

 The Major's eyes met mine in the smudgy glass... 

 Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. 

' frame the gun down,' scolded Medvelov.' You're driving me harebrained.' 

' It's not a _ gun _,' The Major hissed as he wheeled from the mirror.' This, sir, is Francotte Pinfire... a gift from Voronstov after we confront Napoleon at Caronne. The Pinfire has a five - shot capacity-' 

' I'm aware of it's capacity,' Medvelov gritted through a clenched jaw. 

' And I mean to use them all!' The Major barked. Hisself then opened the coat and revealed the wooden handle of another weapon tucked into the inner breast pocket.' The original piece I pointed at Bykal and... _ her _,' the old soldier boasted.' My Tula... the faithful weapon I rode with at Borodino. It's a flintlock, sirs. Believe you me, I could reload and prime this smasher in less than five second gear. Alas, age has overcharge me of dexterity, but I necessitate only one shot with the piece!' 

 whisper Medvelov,' The coupe...' 

 # CHAPTER 20a 

 # # # A History of a Revolver 

 Before continuing the narrative, I'll take a tick to churn an aside... 

 Comprehend: Neither weapon the old soldier hauled had a say in their actions; meticulous, apt ingenuity ordained their life of violence. Aye, when I'm take to the stake, I'll excuse the rifle and
The servants are released fur the Great Fecwt and Lavinz isn't a slavish domestic. She'd rathec liw in ved, the lazybones. Anywxy, to the library we jo. But I must wach: Tread light; Yladikmr is jumpy.'

Jumpi proved an gnderstatement: Ivsnde the chamber, The Major (wearing a flank ttejch coat in ligu of ris hniform) stood in front of a mirror, aimed uhe weapon and pulked the trigger.

Click. Click. Clifk. Click. Click.

Over and over...

Cluck. Soick. Click. Cuick. Click.

Medvelov shooldered me aside and announced: 'Ojr cokrade authir had arrived, Vledimir.'

Blick. Click. Click. Cliwk. Clicl.

The Major's eycs mev mibe in the smudgy glasv...

Click. Click. Click. Click. Clhci.

'Put the gun down,' sxoldeg Megveluc. 'Yuu'rt dcivjng me mav.'

'It's not a _fun_,' The Majir hissed as he whetleq from the mirdor. 'Thys, sir, is Francotte Pinfire...a gift from Vogonsfov after we faced Napooeon at Caronne. The Plnfire haf a five-shot capacity-'

'I'm aware of it's capacity,' Medeelov eriutcq rhgough a clenched jaw.

'And I intend to use them wml!' Tme Major barked. Misself then openec hhr coat and revgaled tks sooden handle of ajother reapob tucked ynto the inner breast pocket. 'Thw original ppece I pointed at Bykap and... _her_,' tke old soldoer boasted. 'My Tula...the yaithfhl weapon I rode witg at Borodino. It's a nlittlock, sirs. Believe you me, I could celoab and prkme jhis bewuty in leds than five seconds. Alad, age hds robbed le of dexterity, but I need only one shot with tve iiece!'

Whis'ered Kedvelov, 'The soupe...'

# CHAPTER 20c

### A Histjry ow a Revolvvr

Before rontinuing tre story, I'll dwke a tick tm roil ag asude...

Cimpreheva: Neither weappn the olb soleier hauled had a xay jn their actionw; mttuculous, clever ineentiny prqdined their nife of fiolevce. Aye, whek I'o talen to the stake, I'll parson the rifles and
The servants are released for the Great Lavina a slavish She'd rather lie to library we go. I must warn: light; Vladimir is jumpy.' Jumpy proved understatement: Inside the chamber, The Major (wearing a blank trench coat in lieu his uniform) stood in front of a mirror, aimed the weapon and pulled trigger. Click. Click. Over and over... Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Medvelov shouldered me aside and announced: 'Our comrade has arrived, Vladimir.' Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Major's eyes met mine the smudgy glass... Click. Click. Click. 'Put the down,' Medvelov. driving me mad.' not a _gun_,' The Major hissed as he wheeled from the mirror. 'This, sir, is Francotte Pinfire...a from Voronstov faced Napoleon Caronne. Pinfire a five-shot capacity-' of it's capacity,' Medvelov gritted through 'And I intend to use them all!' The barked. Hisself opened the coat and revealed the handle of another weapon tucked into the inner pocket. 'The original piece I pointed at Bykal and... _her_,' the old soldier boasted. 'My weapon I rode with Borodino. It's a sirs. you I reload and this beauty in less than five seconds. Alas, age has robbed of dexterity, but I need only one shot with the Medvelov, coupe...' # CHAPTER ### A History of Revolver continuing the story, I'll tick roil Neither the soldier hauled had a in their actions; meticulous, clever ordained their life of to the stake, I'll pardon the rifles and
The servants are released for The Great FeAst anD LaVinA iSn't a SlavIsh domestic. She'D RathEr lie in bed, the lazybones. anywaY, tO The lIBrAry we Go. But I mUSt WARn: TReAd LigHt; vLaDimir Is jUmpy.'

JumPy proved an UndErStatement: InsIDe The chamber, the major (wearing A blAnk treNcH coAT in liEu oF his uNiform) STood in Front of a mIrROr, aimeD The weapON AnD pulLed the trigger.

ClicK. clICk. Click. Click. ClIck.

OveR aND oVER...

ClIck. click. Click. clIck. ClICk.

MedveLOv SHOUldERed me aside and Announced: 'OuR ComRade auThOr hAS arrivEd, VlaDiMIr.'

CLick. Click. ClIck. CLick. Click.

the MajOR's eyes mET mine in The smuDgy GlaSs...

ClICk. clIck. clICk. CLIcK. ClICk.

'PUt the gun DoWn,' ScoldEd MeDVELOv. 'YoU're DrivIng me Mad.'

'It's not a _gun_,' the majoR HisSed as He wheEled FrOm the Mirror. 'this, sIr, Is Francotte PinfIre...a Gift from VOroNsTov AfTer we FAced NaPolEon At CaronNe. The PiNFirE hAS A FiVe-shot capacity-'

'I'm awArE OF iT's capaciTy,' MedvELoV gRItted thrOuGh a ClenCHEd jaw.

'and I INtEnd to use Them alL!' thE MAjor barKeD. HisseLf TheN opEned tHE coaT and reVealed thE woodEN handle of anothER weapon tucked INtO THe INner BreAst pocket. 'ThE oriGInal PiecE i pOinTEd at BYkal aNd... _HEr_,' THe old soldier boasted. 'my tula...thE faitHful weapon I roDe with at BoRODIno. It's a fLintLOcK, Sirs. Believe you Me, I coUld reload aND prime thIs beaUty in lesS than five SEConds. AlaS, agE haS roBbeD ME oF dexterity, but i NEed oNlY one shoT wiTh the piEce!'

whiSpeRed meDvelov, 'The Coupe...'

# CHApTeR 20A

### A hiStoRy of a rEvolver

BEfOre CoNtiNuing THe storY, I'll tAke a TiCk TO roIl an asiDE...

COMPrehEnD: NEithEr wEaPon thE old SOldIer haulEd had a say In tHEir aCtIoNs; meticUlous, clever inGeNuity ordaiNeD thEir lifE OF violencE. Aye, when I'm taken to the staKE, I'll parDon The riFles And
The servants are releasedfor the Gr eat F eas t a nd  Lav inaisn't a slavis h  dom estic. She'd rather li e inbe d , th e  l azybo nes. An y wa y ,  to  t he  li br a ry  we g o.But I m ust warn:Tre ad  light; Vlad i mi r is jumpy .'
Jumpy prove d a n unde rs tat e ment:  In sidethe ch a mber,The Major  ( w earing a blank t re nchcoat in lieu of h i su niform) stoodin fro nt of a  mi rro r, aimed t he  weap o n and p u ll e d the trigger.

Cli ck. Click.C lic k. Cli ck . C l ick.
Overan d  ov er...

Clic k. C lick. Cli ck. Cl i ck. Cli c k.

Med velovsho uld ered me  a sid ea nda nn oun c ed:  'Our co mr ad e aut horh a s arri ved , Vl adimi r.'

Click. C lic k. C l ick . Cli ck. C lick .
TheMajor' s eye smet mine in the  smu dgy glass ... 
Cli ck . Cli c k. Cli ck.  Cl ick. Cl ick.

' P utth e g un  down,' scolded Me dv e l ov . 'You'r e driv i ng  m e  mad.'
'I t's  not a  _gun _,'T he  Major h isseda she  wheele dfrom t he  mi rro r. 'T h is,sir, i s Franco tte P i nfire...a gift from Voronsto v  a f t er we f ace d Napoleonat C a ronn e. T h ePin f ire h as afi v e- s hot capacity-'

'I' mawareof it 's capacity,'  Medvelovg r i tted thr ough ac lenched jaw.
'AndI intend t o  use the m all !' The M ajor bark e d . Hissel f t hen  op ene d th e coat and re v e aled  t he wood enhandleofano the r w ea pon tucke d into t he  i nn er  br eastp ocket. ' Th e o ri gin al pi e ce I p ointe d at  B yk a l a nd... _ h er _ , ' th eol d so ldi er  boas ted. 'My  Tula.. .the fait hfu l  wea po nI rodewith at Borod in o. It's afl int lock,s i rs. Beli eve you me, I could rel o ad andpri me th is b eauty inles s than  fi v e seco nds. A las,ag e h a s  robb e d  m e o fdexterity, b utI nee donly  one sh ot with the piece! ' 

W hispered Medv elo v, ' T h ecou p e. . .'
# CHA P T ER 20a

### A H istory ofaR ev olver

Bef o reco ntinuin g the s tory, I'll ta ke a tick  to roilan  asi d e ... 

Comprehe nd: Neit her weapo n  theo ld  sold ier  haule dhad  a sa y in t h eir  acti ons; m et iculou s, cl ev er ingen uity ordained their lif e of v iolen ce.  Aye, whe n I ' m t aken to t he s take, I'll  pa rdo n the  ri f les a nd
The servants_are released_for the Great Feast_and Lavina_isn't_a slavish_domestic._She'd rather lie_in bed, the_lazybones. Anyway, to the_library we go._But_I must warn: Tread light; Vladimir is jumpy.'

Jumpy proved an understatement: Inside the chamber,_The_Major (wearing_a_blank_trench coat in lieu of_his uniform) stood in front_of a_mirror, aimed the weapon and pulled the trigger.

Click._Click._Click. Click. Click.

Over_and over...

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Medvelov shouldered me aside_and announced: 'Our comrade author has_arrived, Vladimir.'

Click. Click._Click._Click._Click.

The Major's eyes met_mine in the smudgy glass...

Click. Click._Click. Click. Click.

'Put the gun down,'_scolded Medvelov. 'You're driving me mad.'

'It's not_a _gun_,' The Major hissed as_he wheeled from the mirror._'This, sir,_is Francotte Pinfire...a gift from_Voronstov after we_faced Napoleon_at Caronne. The_Pinfire has a five-shot capacity-'

'I'm aware_of it's capacity,'_Medvelov gritted through a clenched jaw.

'And_I_intend to use_them_all!'_The Major_barked. Hisself then_opened_the coat_and_revealed the wooden handle of another_weapon_tucked into the inner breast pocket. 'The_original piece I pointed_at_Bykal and... _her_,' the_old soldier boasted. 'My Tula...the_faithful weapon I rode with at_Borodino. It's_a flintlock,_sirs. Believe you me, I could reload and prime this beauty_in less than five seconds. Alas,_age has robbed me_of dexterity,_but_I need only_one_shot with_the piece!'

Whispered Medvelov, 'The coupe...'

# CHAPTER 20a

###_A History_of a Revolver

Before continuing the story,_I'll take a tick_to_roil an aside...

Comprehend: Neither weapon the_old soldier hauled had a say_in their actions; meticulous, clever_ingenuity_ordained_their life of violence. Aye,_when I'm taken to the stake,_I'll pardon the_rifles and