And, fearing you might not come to me, I forced my way hither, even with certainty of discomposing your friends. Gentlemen,—Mr. All we have to apprehend is a rescue. Come up stairs, and take a glass of brandy. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. ‘And I have a very good mind to kill you.
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