Pipes were lighted; and Mr. ’ ‘Why the devil should you be interested, I should like to know?’ rejoined Roding. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. When you send for me I shall come back. The night was now advancing, and the party began to think of separating. Meanwhile, Mr. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. No tricks would serve. The horror of those few minutes was still with her.
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