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. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. “I will tell you when to stop. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind.
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