The letter consisted of three or four pages of manuscript and, unlike the envelope, it was handwritten.
"My dear T.X.," it began, and the handwriting was familiar.
Mansus, watching the Commissioner, saw the puzzled frown gather on his superior's forehead, saw the eyebrows arch and the mouth open in astonishment, saw him hastily turn to the last page to read the signature and then: "Howling apples!" gasped T.X.

"It's from John Lexman!" His hand shook as he turned the closely written pages.

The letter was dated that afternoon.

There was no other address than "London." "My dear T.X.," it began, "I do not doubt that this letter will give you a little shock, because most of my friends will have believed that I am gone beyond return.

Fortunately or unfortunately that is not so.