" Ten minutes' walk brought them to the hotel. . “I wish this hadn’t turned up to-day of all days. Bought the freedom of a sing-song girl; and all the while you knew you'd have to tote the girl back. Just as he got on the roof of the prison, St. 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. But what can we do? Here am I, fixed to respectability and this laboratory; you’re living at home. I don't know what you have done; I don't want to know now.
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