He certainly bore inspection. She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. Had he been listening inside? ‘What is amiss?’ ‘That Frenchie, sir. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. His smile faded. 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. "To me?" gasped Winifred. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. . ‘You don’t know him. Wood turned to look at him. ‘Because I’m a female,’ declared Lucilla unanswerably.
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