” “Annabel Pellissier is married,” Courtlaw said quietly. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. She has married some one he could not approve of, and gone right away. This was just what he needed. Go to her. 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. “I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. “I will tell you as much as this,” she continued. " "Hush!" replied Mrs. ‘Let’s see now. She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease.
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