You say that this gentleman was with you?” “I was,” Brendon answered, “most providentially. Too much, perhaps. The next door neighbor's dog, chained outside, let out a single bark, but was silent as soon as she turned in that direction, instinctively afraid. “What is the good of talking?” said her brother. 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. "The key," replied the widow.
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