The Farmington times. (Farmington, St. Francois County, Mo.) 1905-1926, 1913-02-27


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 tho light
cheeriness OF his tone was not only in
marked contrast with his grave alb
6orptlon 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.
Spouse.
Cameron" begged. "for Gods
sake be serious. This doesn't seem
to ne exactly a matter 10 DO merry
over don't want to alarm you, but
somehow | feel that these" and
shook the cracking, wax.like sheets.
mat 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 | paused. ! wished to
tell him Of that elusive encompass
ment of sinister portent which had 80
impressed me; of that malgn forebod-
ing beyond anything warranted by the
words; but | stumbled In the effort at
expression. Besides" | started again,
and ended lamely. 81 don't like the
look and the feel OF them"
And now he was as serious as |
could wish
Ali" he cried, leaning forward
again and reaching for the letters.
You have experienced It. too! And
you can't explain il, any more than /?
1t is something that grips you when
you read, like an icy hand, hard as
steel, in glove of velvet. It's al.
ways between the lines, reaching out,
and nothing you car do will stay IT,
| thought at first | imagined Il, but
the Oftener | 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 guisc, in every
part Of the world. and I've never real.
ly known fear. But this-this Is diff
ferent. And the worst of 1t Is, 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 toycd
with the two letters, quiyered and
twitched in excess OF nervous 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"
| took the letter from him. and
scrutinizing the rude figure with con.
CcntTated attention for moment, ven.
tured the suggestion that It somewhat
resembled boat.
"A one-masted vessel, square.
rIgged," he added, IN elucidatlon.
Exactly"
Now turn It upside down"
/ did so.
Now what do you see?"
THE head OF n man wearing a hel.
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 reversed
the sheet OF paper.
Can 1t be Chinese junk" | asked
at might be a sailing proa or ban.
ca" he returned, such as they use in
the South Pacific. But whatever It is.
cant understand what 1t has to do
with mo 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" l answered. promptly.
1T Is curious penmanship, as you say
heavy and regular and upright, with
some strangely formed letters; es-
pecially the rs and the p's; but It
tells me nothing"
"But thought" he began.
That boosted? So did. When
one writes as one habitually writes It
is very easy. These letters, however,
are not in the writer's ordinary hand.
The writing is as artificial as though
you. for example, had printed note
In Roman characters. Were they ad-
dressed In the same hand?"
Precisely"
What was the post.mark?"
"They bore no post-mark. That is
another strange circumstance. Yet
they were with my mail. How they
came there have been unable to as
certain. The people at the post office
naturally deny that they delivered
anything unstamped, as these We're;
and Barrie, the lad who fetches the
letters, has no recollection Of these
Nor has Checkabeedy, who sorts the
mail here at the house. But each of
them lay beside my plate at break
fast--the first on the fourteenth of
August; the second, this morning. the
foprteentb nj Sentanlber"