He stood transfixed. There was no one to be seen. 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. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend. "No matter," replied Sheppard. You may go back, Marthe. ‘And she’s—’ She broke off, a sudden light in her eyes.
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