Horrid snorters! So long, Vee! Just suggested it. But Jack speedily burst it open with the iron bar. At a little distance from the party, sat a tall, sinister-looking personage, with harsh inflexible features, a gaunt but muscular frame, and large bony hands. 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. "For me—his master, Mr. ” “You mean—you think——” “Hush! I think that he was concealed in my room, and Annabel and he met there. She drove me. ‘Then it is that you will have pity? Here we have come, we poor, for aid. The mummies were tossed into the collection. ‘For that I shall certainly not leave until you have told me every tiny detail.
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