“Dear Tom: Old man, can you run down to see me for a few days? I’m afraid I’m in a bad way. ARTHUR.”
Scrawled across the bottom was the address, 536 N. Marathon street.
I have often visited Baltimore, but I cannot recall a street of that name.
Of course I shall go.... But what a strange letter after ten years! There is something almost uncanny about it.
I shall go tomorrow evening. I cannot possibly get off before then.
September 18.—I am leaving tonight. Mrs. O’Brien has packed my two suitcases, and everything is in readiness for my departure. Ten minutes ago I handed her the keys and she went off tearfully. She has been sniffling all day and I have been perplexed, for a curious thing occurred this morning.
It was about Arthur’s letter. Yesterday, when I had finished reading it, I took it to my desk and placed it in a small compartment together with other personal papers. I remember distinctly that it was on top, with a lavender card from my sister directly underneath. This morning I went to get it. It was gone.
There was the lavender card exactly where I had seen it, but Arthur’s letter had completely disappeared. I turned everything upside down, then called Mrs. O’Brien and we both searched, but in vain. Mrs. O’Brien, in spite of all I could say, took it upon herself to feel that I suspected her.... But what could have become of it? Fortunately I remember the address.