"Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. Here, Jem, take the gentleman's horse to the stable—see him dressed and fed directly. She was only trying to distract you so that she might escape. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “don’t!” “Why not?” she asked, smiling. ” She changed the subject abruptly. Wood," said the lady bridling up, "my request may, perhaps, have some weight with you. Just then—I was nervous. 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. "Vat ish it, Mishter Vild?" inquired Mendez.
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