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. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. ” She smiled faintly. . . But, egad! I believe he will. Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. I spent my fair share of time in the closet. . What had been happening all this time? ‘Do you tell me he has not again left his apartment?’ ‘Only to go to some party or other Monday night,’ Kimble said. But it means no end of a row.
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