He gasped with joy as he tucked away the crackling bits of paper.
"And remember, not ever a word to any one, Smith."
"On my honor, sir," he said, saluting.
"And what will you do with it, Smith?"
"Please, sir, I hope to pelmanize myself into an hotel manager," he said, and I let him go at that. I only hope that he will succeed.
I opened the letter. It ran as follows:
"Farewell. I don't suppose we shall ever meet again. I am forced to retire from the world—from love—from you.
"I cannot explain, but fear walks with me night and day. Oh, my love! if you could only save me, you would, I know, but it is impossible and so farewell. Were I not sure that we shall not see each other more I could not write as I have done and signed myself here,
"Your,
"Juanita."
I put the letter carefully into the breast-pocket of my coat, and then, for the first time in my life, I fainted dead away.
Preston found me a few minutes later, got me right somehow, ascertained that I had not eaten for many hours, scolded me like a father, and poured turtle soup into me till I was alive again, alive and changed from the man I had been a few hours ago.