“Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me. ” He left off abruptly. ‘You have no need to be afraid of us. 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 said there was no other way to get them to stop their constant screaming. Just what in the world was that about? Before he could hazard a guess, Lucy looked back at him. You'll have it down. Yet every now and then, during the progress of the meal, his attention apparently wandered, and leaning forward he glanced covertly at Anna with a curious mixture of expressions on his face. “That’s what we narcs have to do. .
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