MIDAS.

John, do you wonder now that I shunned pleasure and avoided friends?
But why explain? Surely this narrative will make everything clear. Three
weeks ago Adelaide Laidlaw died. Since then I have waited in hope and
fear. Yesterday the will was probated and made public. Today I was
notified that a woman of the middle class would be killed in Golden Gate
Park, in faraway San Francisco. The despatches in to-night's papers give
the details of the brutal happening--details which correspond with those
furnished me in advance.

It is useless. I cannot struggle against the inevitable. I have been
faithful to Mr. Hale and have worked hard. Why my faithfulness should
have been thus rewarded I cannot understand. Yet I cannot be false to my
trust, nor break my word by compromising. Still, I have resolved that
no more deaths shall be upon my head. I have willed the many millions I
lately received to their rightful owners. Let the stalwart sons of Eben
Hale work out their own salvation. Ere you read this I shall have passed
on. The Minions of Midas are all-powerful. The police are impotent.
I have learned from them that other millionnaires have been likewise
mulcted or persecuted--how many is not known, for when one yields to the
M. of M., his mouth is thenceforth sealed. Those who have not yielded
are even now reaping their scarlet harvest. The grim game is being
played out. The Federal Government can do nothing. I also understand
that similar branch organizations have made their appearance in Europe.
Society is shaken to its foundations. Principalities and powers are as
brands ripe for the burning. Instead of the masses against the classes,
it is a class against the classes. We, the guardians of human progress,
are being singled out and struck down. Law and order have failed.

The officials have begged me to keep this secret. I have done so, but
can do so no longer. It has become a question of public import, fraught
with the direst consequences, and I shall do my duty before I leave this
world by informing it of its peril. Do you, John, as my last request,
make this public. Do not be frightened. The fate of humanity rests in
your hand. Let the press strike off millions of copies; let the electric
currents sweep it round the world; wherever men meet and speak, let them
speak of it in fear and trembling. And then, when thoroughly aroused,
let society arise in its might and cast out this abomination.

Yours, in long farewell,