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. ‘Not kill me, I mean. Marvel, who, as he had helped to deprive her of her former husbands, thought himself in duty bound to offer to supply their place. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. Making up a similar story to that which he had told the old woman, he said he wanted to purchase a hammer and a file.
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