"In view, then, of the fact that the latter half of the self-styled confession is proved to be a sheer invention, might it not reasonably be assumed that the first half pertains to the same class of narrative? Such would seem to be a common-sense way of looking at the affair, were it not that there is so much of actual fact as regards the commission of the crime itself mixed up with the narrative, and so many real persons under assumed names introduced therein, as to create a suspicion (in my mind, at least) that there may be some substratum of truth in that part of it which attributes the death of Mr. Melray to a quarrel with a former lover of his young and attractive wife. "That you will read 'How, and Why,' after what I have here said about it, I do not doubt; after which I think you will agree with me that the story refers to 'The Loudwater Tragedy' and to no other crime, and that the writer of it, whoever he may be, displays a singularly minute and intimate acquaintance with all the details of that still unsolved mystery. "You will say to yourself that this is a strange letter for a young woman to write to her lover, and so it is, but then the circumstances of the case are peculiar. However, I promise you that my next letter shall be a very different kind of composition. "Miss Mawby's bell has just rung, so I will conclude without a word more, except that, now and always, I am yours and yours only, "Fanny Sudlow." Such was the letter which Philip Winslade found one morning on his breakfast-table. But before introducing either the writer or the recipient of it to the reader's notice, it may be as well to give a brief _résumé_ of the main facts in connection with the affair known as "The Loudwater Tragedy," so far as they had hitherto been brought to light, as also of certain of the events which led up to it. Those who are acquainted with the once thriving port of Merehampton know what a pleasant, but withal dull, little town it is. No business firm in it is, or rather was a few years ago, more widely known or highly respected than that of Melray Brothers, ship-brokers and general merchants. Of the two brothers who made up the firm, James, the elder, was, to all intents and purposes, the sole representative. Robert, the younger brother, had been delicate from boyhood, and found it to the advantage of his health to winter abroad. Indeed, whenever he happened to be in England his visits to Merehampton were few and perfunctory, and while retaining a monetary interest in the business, he never concerned himself with the details, but willingly left the entire management to James, who, on his part, being a masterful kind of man and one who would have felt it irksome to have to put up with a partner who might chance to hold independent views--was quite content that matters should remain as they were. At this time James Melray was fifty years old, Robert being his junior by some ten or eleven years.