"Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Jonathan to Trenchard. "Do you want it back under the pillow?" "Hang it over a chair. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. . Sheppard," replied Jonathan, mysteriously. 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.
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