” “Wait,” she said. ’ ‘Ah yes. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam. “I have spoken too many truths to-night. The key is in my trousers. I have always had a secret crush on him, to be honest with you. But still you have told me of my real mother when I thought it was Suzanne Valade.
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