The pioneer express., 1912-11-22

rupt his reverie, I started to read
them through again slowly, this time
TO myself, fixing each sentence indel.
IDLY in mind as proceeded. But be-
fore had quite come to the end, my
companion was speaking.
Well? he said. And the light
cheeriness Of his tone was not only in
marked contrast with his grave alb
sorption Of a moment before, but in
Earring discord with my own present
mood. well? What do you make Of
them?"
My annoyance found voice in my re-
sponse.
Cameron" begged. "for Gods
sake be serious. This doesn't seem
to me exactly a matter to be merry
over. I don't want to alarm you, but
somehow l feel that these" and
shook the cracking, wax.like sheets,
that these cannot be utterly ignored"
But they are anonymous" he re-
torted, not unjustly. Anonymous
letters should be burned and forgot
ten."
There are anonymous letters and
anonymous letters" gave him back,
in turn. These are of an unusually
convincing character. Besides. they
- And then l paused. I wished to
tell him of that elusive encompass
ment of sinister portent which had so
Impressed me; of that malign forebod-
ing beyond anything warranted by the
words: but l stumbled in the effort at
expression. Besides" started again,
and ended lamely. Il don't like the
look and the feel Of them"
And now he was as serious as
could wish.
"Ah!" he cried. leaning forward
/ again and reaching for the letters.
you have experienced it. too! And
you can't explain it.. any more than L?
1t is something that grips you when
you read. like an icy hand, hard as
steel. In a glove Of velvet. It's al
ways between the lines. reaching out,
and nothing you can do will stay it..
thought at first l imagined it, but
the oftener l have read, the more
! have felt its clutch. The letters of
themselves are nothing. What do you
suppose / care for yelled threats of
that sort? I'm big enough to take
care of myself. Clyde I've met peril
In about every possible guise, in every
part of the world, and I've never real
ly known fear. But this--this is diff
ferent. And the worst of it is, I don't
know why. can't for the life of me
make out what it is I'm afraid Of
He had gone very pale, and his
strong. capable hands. which toyed
with the two letters, quivered and
twitched in excess of nervbus tension.
Then, with finger pointing to the
ink-stain at the bottom of one of the
sheets, he asked:
what does that look like to your"
I took the letter from him, and
scrutinizing the rude figure with con-
centrated attention for moment. ven.
tured the suggestion that 1t somewhat
resembled a boat
"A one-masted vessel, square.
rigged." he added, In elucidation.
Exactly"
"Now turn 1t upside down."
did so.
''Now what do you see?"
''The head Of man wearing a he'll
met" The resemblance was very
marked.
"A straw helmet, apparently" he
amplifed, such as is worn in the
Orient. And yet the profile is not that
Of an Oriental. Now. look at your YES.
sci again." And once more I reversed
the sheet of paper.
"Can 1t be Chinese junk?" asked,
1T might be sailing proa or ban
ca" he returned, such as they use in
the South Pacific. But whatever 1t is.
I can't understand what it has to do
with me or with it."
was still studying the black daub,
when he said:
"But you haven't told me about the
handwriting. What can you read of
the character Of the writer?"
Nothing" answered. promptly.
1T is curious penmanship, as you say
heavy and regular and upright, with
some strangely formed letters: es.
pecially the f's and the pa: but 1t
tells me nothing"
''But I thought" he began.
THAT boasted? So / did. When
one writes as one habitually writes 1t
is very easy. These letters. however,
are not in the writer's ordinary hand.
The writing IL as artificial as. though
you, for example. had printed q note
in Roman characters. Were they I'D.
dressed in the same band?"
Precisely
what was the post-mark?"
"They bore no post-mark. That ID
another strange circumstance. Yet
they were with my mail. How they
came there ! have been unable to ~
certain. The people at the post once
naturally deny that they delivered
anything nnstamped. q these wepe:
and Barrie. the lad who tetehAs the
letters. has no recollection Of thaee
Nor has Checkabeedy. who sorts the
mail hare at the house. But each oi
them NY beside my plate s break
fast the; Arst on, tho fourteenth oi
4 August; the second. this morning. th<
= AZ y.AA q