Gerald frowned. 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. "He has quite the air of one. Wild. \" She opened the front door with her keys, stepping inside. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. I'll call for you after lunch. It ought never to have begun.
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