£10,000 Pounds Reward!
Whereas Sidney Colvin, more generally known as the Guardian Angel, has vanished from the gaze of Mr. R. L. Stevenson, the above reward is offered as a means to discover the whereabouts of the misguided gentleman. He was known as a man of irregular habits, and his rowdy exterior would readily attract attention in a crowd. He was never known to resist a drink; whisky was his favourite dish. If any one will bring him to Mr. Stevenson’s back area door, dead or alive, the greatest rejoicing will be felt by a bereaved and uneasy family.
Also, wherefore not a word, dear Colvin? My news is: splendid health; great success of the Black Arrow; another tale demanded, readers this time (the Lord lighten them!) pleased; a great variety of small ships launched or still upon the stocks—(also, why not send the annotated proof of Fontainebleau? ce n’est pas d’un bon camarade); a paper on dogs for Carr;[7] a paper called Old Mortality, a paper called A Misadventure in France, a tale entituled The Travelling Companion; Otto arrested one foot in air; and last and not least, a great demand for news of Sidney Colvin and others. Herewith I pause, for why should I cast pearls before swine?
A word, Guardian Angel. You are much loved in this house, not by me only, but by the wife. The Wogg himself is anxious.—Ever yours affectionately,
R. L. S.
To Sidney Colvin
La Solitude, Hyères [November 1883].
MY DEAR COLVIN,—I have been bad, but as you were worse, I feel no shame. I raise a blooming countenance, not the evidence of a self-righteous spirit.
I continue my uphill fight with the twin spirits of bankruptcy and indigestion. Duns rage about my portal, at least to fancy’s ear.