“Yes!” exclaimed I, speaking to my old servant, for lack of another, “it must be from Mr. Smith at last. I know no one else in Morganton. And if he writes he has news!” “Morganton?” said the old woman, “isn’t that the place where the demons set fire to their mountain?” “Exactly.” “Oh, sir! I hope you don’t mean to go back there!” “Why not?” “Because you will end by being burned up in that furnace of the Great Eyrie. And I wouldn’t want you buried that way, sir.” “Cheer up, and let us see if it is not better news than that.” The envelope was sealed with red sealing wax, and stamped with a sort of coat of arms, surmounted with three stars. The paper was thick and very strong. I broke the envelope and drew out a letter. It was a single sheet, folded in four, and written on one side only. My first glance was for the signature. There was no signature! Nothing but three initials at the end of the last line! “The letter is not from the Mayor of Morganton,” said I. “Then from whom?” asked the old servant, doubly curious in her quality as a woman and as an old gossip. Looking again at the three initials of the signature, I said, “I know no one for whom these letters would stand; neither at Morganton nor elsewhere.” The hand-writing was bold. Both up strokes and down strokes very sharp, about twenty lines in all. Here is the letter, of which I, with good reason, retained an exact copy. It was dated, to my extreme stupefaction, from that mysterious Great Eyrie: Great Eyrie, Blueridge Mtns, To Mr. Strock: North Carolina, June 13th. Chief Inspector of Police, 34 Long St., Washington, D. C. Sir, You were charged with the mission of penetrating the Great Eyrie. You came on April the twenty-eighth, accompanied by the Mayor of Morganton and two guides. You mounted to the foot of the wall, and you encircled it, finding it too high and steep to climb. You sought a breech and you found none. Know this: none enter the Great Eyrie; or if one enters, he never returns. “Do not try again, for the second attempt will not result as did the first, but will have grave consequences for you. “Heed this warning, or evil fortune will come to you. “M. o. W.” VII. A THIRD MACHINE I confess that at first this letter dumfounded me. “Ohs!” and “Ahs!” slipped from my open mouth. The old servant stared at me, not knowing what to think. “Oh, sir! is it bad news?” I answered for I kept few secrets from this faithful soul by reading her the letter from end to end. She listened with much anxiety. “A joke, without doubt,” said I, shrugging my shoulders. “Well,” returned my superstitious handmaid, “if it isn’t from the devil, it’s from the devil’s country, anyway.”