“My chief,” he said, “took it into his head to have an impromptu dinner party. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. 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. ’ ‘Oh, don’t I? What do you have under all those petticoats, a holster?’ ‘But yes, and they are empty. ’ ‘Comment? But already he has made this visit—in town. ‘That’s a loud one.
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