Evening star., 1935-12-08
December 8, 1885

Forsyth found Helen Lukens beside
him, close to him, intent on his words,
eager, beautiful. He lighted cigarette,
and - always pleasantly conscious
how near she was - tried to put his
memories in order. THE thing was
addressed to me in care of the COM
pany that publishes one of the maga-
zines in which my stories sometimes
appear. always sign my full name to
the tales, but just the initials were
used on this address. opened it, and
inside there was sheet of note paper,
and another envelope addressed to
It. L. Sending, Barrister at Law,
Auckland in a small, copperplate
hand"
THAT was Tom'sr' she repeated
softly. Her hair was rich and warm,
her cheek bright. Her eyes shone with
the intensity of her attention, yet they
were misted now with unshed tears.
THE word 'barrister' was mis-
spelled" Forsyth explained. 'It was
spelled BARR"
"Of courser' she cried. You see.
MIR. Forsyth, he left Auckland in his
plane. BY air! He put in the i to
make us understand
II wondered about that" Forsyth
assented; and he continued. Then
a note on the sheet of paper was ad-
dressed to Fl. L. Sending, care of
Evan Mcdonald, in London; and it
asked that the enclosed draft for five
glineas be credited to his account
against Christmas, or some such
phrase" He added: But there was
no draft enclosed"
Tennyson suggested: The key is
probably made up of numbers Five
may be one of them"
There was a draft or a check for
ten guineas written on one Of the inner
envelopes, Forsyth recalled. Tenny-
son nodded intently; and Forsyth
went on: There were lot of en-
velopes, you understand, one inside
the other, with names on each, and
usually sentence or two, like the
postscripts you put on the outside of
an envelope when you don't want
to waste stamp by opening it again
after you've sealed it," He added: 81
opened them all. the whole thing. Per-
haps | shouldn't have done it, but it
seemed to me had right to do so,
as long as it had been addressed to
me-"
"Of courser Helen Lukens assured
him.
Il was pretty interested. In one
place he wrote: The people are about,
but not till night That made me
shiver, somehow. 1t suggested that
he was surrounded by enemies, watch
ing him, waiting for darkness. He
saw her lips white with pain. After
that. it would have taken a good deal
to prevent my opening them all" he
confessed, smiling little. my ina
gination was working at top speed"
They nodded. and he went on
carefully:
Il think it was on that same en-
velope the draft for ten guineas was
written, and there was something
about in terms of undisturbed letter
adequately gummed, and remember
the phrase hopefully dispatched and
the date November eleventh"
Helen Lukens echoed: Hopefully
dispatched Poor Tomr'
And l think that envelope was
addressed to Sir William Pember-
Reeves"
Tennyson protested: "Sure of that
name? Lukens must have known Sir
William was dead"
II wrote him." Forsyth assented,
and the London Office said he'd
been dead twenty-five years"
Helen Lukens cried: Twenty-Five!
Ronald. there's another fgure!'
Tennyson nodded, and Forsyth
went on: Then there was another
envelope, with three or four names on
it, and beneath them the words as yet
unknown And above them. INSIDE