"Whatever you say—you, behind those stars there, if you are a God. Oh, you must believe me. . “Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do. 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. “And what will Mr. She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol. He well knows that but two lives—those of Thames Darrell and Sir Rowland Trenchard,—stand between you and the vast possessions of the family.
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