She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. Run away now, please. I've a shrewd guess where he's taken refuge; but I'll ferret him out. Call her Miss Pellissier, eh? I tell you she’s my wife, and I’ve got the certificate in my pocket. 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.
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