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. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. She looked at her flattened belly. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation.
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