” He took up his hat. . 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. She also knew that he was the type who would not make a single physical overture until she pushed the correct buttons. Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout. “Yes, I see that. ‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it. To her satisfaction, the captain reddened a trifle. “Umph!” he said, and regarded his letter doubtfully before consigning it to the pillar-box. I suppose the phrase—the word—originally meant a man who searched for food on the beach. She lied. Have you anything to tell me before you go?” Annabel laughed lightly. That’s— that’s my private life.
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