"Or trying to be," answered the doctor. ” Hill staggered to his feet and drew a folded paper from his pocket. "They have ever since been deposited in a place of safety. What had been happening all this time? ‘Do you tell me he has not again left his apartment?’ ‘Only to go to some party or other Monday night,’ Kimble said. The commissionaire stood there, tall and imperturbable. 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. They walked back to 118 hand in hand. He dared not go on. Now, you know where he is bound. It was empty. ’ ‘I’m coming to that.
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