‘If you are not going to visit Charvill today, I’ll escort you back to the convent in Golden Square. ‘You see, unlike you, mademoiselle, your cavalier here would not wish to be arrested. ” She had forged birth certificates dating back to before anyone in the building had been born. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. 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.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQzLjUuMjE3IC0gMTAtMDYtMjAyNCAxNTowOToxOCAtIDg2ODYxNTg5
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