” His father said. "Arundel Stairs," replied Wood, "the nearest point to Wych Street. He continued thoughtfully. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. I cannot think he will welcome a French émigré for his granddaughter. Bête, she told herself fiercely. So long as she stood beside him, he was safe. Lucy went downstairs to prepare the hot cocoa that would be the last hot drink of the season, ruefully spiking the liquid with Nytol, just one tablet dissolved in a little warm water. The man’s statement was explicit, and spoken with confidence. 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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