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since last Thursday And now, in the dusk, I sit again in my rooms, a

free man, and write to you in what peace and quiet I can coh which I have recently passed

Suspicion no longer points to er eye htly interested in ht at last!

Sunday night I spent ingloriously in a cell in Scotland Yard I could

not sleep I had so much to think of--you, for exaht escape frohtly

about me My friend at the consulate, Watson, called on ; and he was very kind But there was a note lacking in

his voice, and after, he was gone the terrible certainty cauilty after all

The night passed, and a goodly portion of to-day went by--as the poets

say--with lagging feet I thought of London, yellow in the sun I

thought of the Carlton--I suppose there are no more strawberries by this

time And my waiter--that stiff-backed Prussian--is hoiht of you