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. ‘You put that thing away now, missie. God, I hate these stupid ear infections! Have you ever had one?” Michelle asked. Then they rode off at speed. Glancing around his prison, he began to think it possible he might effect an escape from it.
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