The note ran:—
“I have just been dismissed from the Spectator for sneezing in an indelicate manner. I have a Revelation to make with regard to the conduct of that paper. Please see me at once, or it may be too late. I have with me a letter which the Spectator will publish next week. It throws a searching light upon the Editor’s mind, and lays bare all the inner workings of the paper. Price 40s.”
I told Dr. Caliban, that in my opinion, on the one hand, there might be something in it; while on the other hand, that there might not.
Dr. Caliban looked at me thoughtfully and said:
“You think that?”
He touched an electric bell. As this did not ring, he blew down a tube, and receiving no answer, nor indeed hearing the whistle at the other end, he sent a messenger, who, by some accident, failed to return to the editorial office. Dr. Caliban himself went down and brought up the stranger. He was a young man somewhat cadaverous. He repeated what he had said in his note, refused to bargain in any way, received two sovereigns from Dr. Caliban’s own purse, sighed deeply, and then with a grave face said:
“It feels like treason.”
He pressed his lips hard together, conquered himself, and left us with the utmost rapidity.
When Dr. Caliban and I were alone together, he opened the sealed envelope and read these words, written on a little slip of foolscap: