On weighing the matter over, he grew so uneasy that he resolved to descend, and inform him of his misgivings. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “I am going to take a liberty. This time she tried to kill me with a dagger. 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 little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment.
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