"He lives at Dollis Hill, a beautiful spot near Willesden, about four or five miles from town, where he has taken a farm. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. ‘Small wonder in a way that he found hisself consolation elsewhere. 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. “You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. ‘What happened, ma’am?’ enquired Gerald gently.
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