" "Sir," said the chief turnkey, indignantly. 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. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. But since you assure me you didn't write the letters, and Mr. Anna stood looking down upon her sister with grave perturbed face. She was a much lighter and more frivolous person, very charming and companionable—but with a difference—a great difference. Another glass, Jack.
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