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. Pain sliced into Gerald’s hand and his sword arm jerked. We ourselves have been similarly circumstanced. You have spoken her name, I think, Marthe. Norris, she revived a little. Rollo barked. Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. And we men would work for them and serve them in loyal fealty.
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