Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. What of madame, his wife?’ ‘You know more of her than me,’ the girl said with a look of scorn. But I am afraid I am a shockingly obstinate and a very ungrateful person. 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 door opened. “A very clear statement, madam,” he said. ” “I believe you,” she murmured.
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