He uttered a deep groan, but said nothing. Her complexion had resisted the snow-glare wonderfully; her skin had only deepened its natural warmth a little under the Alpine sun. What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. The boy was right. 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.
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