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. " "Where—where?" cried Thames. "Red apples and snow!" he repeated. "Trenchard," he muttered; "Aliva Trenchard—they were right, then, as to the name. “You were married to him!” “It could not be legal,” Annabel moaned.
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