” “It isn’t nice getting there. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. F. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. 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. "The lash cuts to the bone. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. The telegram dispatched, his obligation cancelled, Ah Cum proceeded homeward, chuckling occasionally. For the first time he seemed to wonder what it might be that she had to confess.
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