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Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. "Remove him to the Middle Stone Hold,—watch over him night and day, do you mind?" "I do, Sir. And Blueskin, who, for a moment, had looked round distrustfully, concluding it was a feint, now laughed louder than ever. I wonder what he meant by that?" "The Lord knows!" The patient was restless during the first watch of the night. Annabel turned on the electric light and made her way into the sitting-room. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. 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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