CHAPTER VI Sidney Carton, thought Ruth, in pursuit of a sing-song girl! The idea was so incongruous that a cold little smile parted her lips. ‘André? Que dit-il?’ ‘My wife does not understand,’ said the fellow, frowning deeply. From your pocket there. We find out no man will treat a woman fairly as man to man—no man. 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. He HAD followed her! What had he followed her for? He must have followed her all the way from beyond Grosvenor Square.
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