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. Return to him, I say—" "I can't," replied Jack, doggedly. And she found herself able to do nothing of the sort. But we’ve got the brains to get over that, and tongues in our heads to talk to each other. For a few days he was able to relegate his conscience to the background. The opiate has done its duty. He found, however, that now the time had come he utterly lacked the courage to attempt any such speech. Let us be gone. He will have to return to Hong-Kong.
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