Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. "Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together. Anna glanced into her sister’s face, and rose to her feet. What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. 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. " "What is this to me, Sir?" said Trenchard, cutting him short.
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