“Which shows, at least, that it isn’t a case of somebody in the apartment house tampering with the mail.” “Not only that. It’s a dodge to find out whether he got the first message. People don’t always read advertisements, even when sealed, as the first message-bearing one was. Therefore, our mysterious persecutor says: ‘I’ll just have Robinson prove it to me, if he _did_ get the first message, by calling for the second.’ Then, after a lapse of time, he himself goes to the General Delivery, asks for a letter for Mr. William H. Robinson, finds it’s gone, and is satisfied.” “Yes, and he’d be sure then that Robinson would go through all the mailed ads with a fine-tooth comb, after that. But why the pin-pricks? Just to disguise his hand?” “Possibly. It’s a fairly effectual disguise.” “Why didn’t he address the envelope that way, then?” “The address wouldn’t be legible against the white background of the paper inside. On the other hand, if he’d addressed all his envelopes by pinpricks filled in with pencil lines, the post-office people might get curious and look into one. Sending threats through the mail is a serious matter.” Average Jones ran over the letter again. “Good man, Robinson!” he observed. “He’s penciled the date of receipt on each one, like a fine young methodical business gent. Here we are: ‘Rec’d July 14. Card from Goshorn & Co., Oriental Goods.’ Message pricked in through the cardboard: ‘You are suspected by your neighbors. Watch them.’ Not bad for a follow-up, is it?” “It would look like insanity, if it weren’t that—that through the letters ‘one increasing purpose runs,’” parodied Bertram. “Here’s one of July thirty-first; an advertisement of the Croiset Line tours to the Orient. Listen here, Bert: ‘Whither can guilt flee that vengeance, may not follow?’” “I can’t quite see Robinson in the part of guilt,” mused Bertram. “What’s next?” “More veiled accusation. The medium is a church society announcement of a lecture on Japanese Feudalism. Date, August seventeenth. Inscription: ‘If there is no blood on your soul, why do you not face your judges?’” “Little anti-climactic, don’t you think?” “What about this one of September seventh, then? Direct reference back to the drug habit implied in the commitment blank. It’s a testimonial booklet of one of the poisonous headache dopes, Lemona Powders. The message is pricked through the cover. ‘Better these than the hell of suspense.’” “Trying the power of suggestion, eh?” “Quite so. The second attempt at it is even more open. An advertisement of Shackleton’s Safeguard Revolvers. Date, September twenty-second. Advice, by pin: ‘As well this as any other way.’” “Drug or suicide,” remarked Bertram. “The man at the other end doesn’t seem particular which.”