Part 3 For a time they walked in silence through the back streets that lead southward from the College. The trio exhibited that indecisive air with which Ah Cum was tolerably familiar. Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street. So, step by step, and hurt by hurt, Ruth was learning that John Smith was John Smith and nobody else. 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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