Let me know as soon as possible, old man, what you think of this and what disposition you want to make of it. I’ll appreciate it very much if you can find a publisher, for it was Stanley’s wish . . . Your old, hard-headed cousin, Oliver Robertson. (Stanley Murdock’s document, enclosed with the above letter, printed just as he himself wrote it. Pursuant to Mr. Robertson’s instructions, and to prevent uneasiness among the credulous, the public is warned that the story is undoubtedly fiction.) September 18, 1923. 47 Victoria Drive, Rajput Gardens, Calcutta, India, TO WHOM THIS MAY CONCERN: In accordance with instructions I have filed with the officials of the Calcutta Traders’ Bank, this document, which is to be read by my executors in the event of my death before June 21, 1931, or by myself on that date in the presence of three officers of the above bank. The reason for this I shall explain as clearly as possible. An experience befell me while doing geological work in the United States of America that has profoundly altered my life, and by the year 1931, will alter the lives of every human being in the world. This statement, startling and unbelievable as it may sound, is nevertheless the truth, and is the reason I am writing, or you are reading this. And I am taking the only course consistent with my own welfare in giving this message to the public so that it may have even a slight chance of credence. So preposterous will be found the contents of this document that such fact alone will largely explain my method of procedure. I want this message to be read, to be believed, and to be acted on. Had I told anybody of my experience at the time it happened, I would simply have been the laughing stock of my friends. Insisting on the truth of the story might have been cause for investigation as to my sanity, and the loss of my position if not of my liberty. It was utterly out of the question to even think of telling anyone what I saw. I had absolutely no proof, and could not then, let alone now, produce any evidence to back up my statements. Only time will prove that I am right, and that will be not later than August 21, 1931. There is a remote chance that the catastrophe will occur sooner, but knowing what I do, I believe that it will transpire on that exact date. So you can see what an awkward position I am in--a prophet--foretelling happenings years ahead, to the very day, to a skeptical world bound by the age-old dictum of common sense, to laugh him to scorn.