When I had finished reading the report--which I here reproduce in order that you shall be more thoroughly acquainted with every detail of the strange adventures which befell me--I purchased a copy of the paper, and carried it back with me to my room at the Hotel Cecil. Who was that mysterious correspondent of the dead man who had sworn vengeance. Who was the friend of Lettice Lancaster? For what reason had that letter been written? What connection could the quiet-mannered, unassuming old gentleman have with such a trio of clever swindlers? It was fortunate, perhaps, that the letter had not been burned, for it had, at least, placed me in possession of some curious facts which must otherwise have been hidden. During the next three days I was greatly occupied by my own affairs, which had been neglected by my year's absence at the Antipodes. Yet time after time I felt the keenest anxiety as to what could be contained in the dead man's letter of instruction, and in that corroded cylinder of bronze. At last, however, I followed the mortal remains of my mysterious friend to Highgate Cemetery, the sole mourner, and after I had seen the coffin committed to the grave I returned to the hotel, where the statue of Osiris stood upon my table, and there, with impatient fingers, tore open the letter. I read it through. Then I stood staring at the unevenly scribbled words--staring at them like a man in a dream. What I read there held me aghast, amazed, stupefied. CHAPTER THREE. WHAT MR ARNOLD LEFT BEHIND. The letter, written upon the notepaper of R.M.S. _Miltiades_, was dated four days prior to our arrival in London. Perhaps I cannot do better than reproduce it in its entirety. "To Lionel Kemball, Esquire. "Dear Mr Kemball,--Now, after my death, I desire here to place on record my great indebtedness to you for your kindness and sympathy. You knew nothing of me, yet you took pity upon my lonely and unfortunate self. You have, in addition, made solemn promise to me to act as I direct. At the outset I desire to be perfectly frank with you and to confess that I was not what I represented myself to be. Certain chapters of my eventful life must be for ever hidden, even from you, who are acting as my friend. This I greatly regret, but to reveal all must only bring unhappiness upon one who is innocent. For that reason I die carrying my secret with me. "How long I shall continue to live after penning this request I cannot know. Therefore, I will make matters as plain as possible, and earnestly request you to act as follows:--