e is dressing for
dinner. We are to dine together at Romano's.

And there, my lady, you have finally the answer to the mystery that
has--I hope--puzzled you. I killed my friend the captain in my second
letter to you, and all the odd developments that followed lived only in
my imagination as I sat here beside the green-shaded lamp in my study,
plotting how I should write seven letters to you that would, as the
novel advertisements say, grip your attention to the very end. Oh, I am
guilty--there is no denying that. And, though I do not wish to ape old
Adam and imply that I was tempted by a lovely woman, a strict regard for
the truth forces me to add that there is also guilt upon your head.
How so? Go back to that message you inserted in the Daily Mail: "The
grapefruit lady's great fondness for mystery and romance--"

You did not know it, of course; but in those words you passed me a
challenge I could not resist; for making plots is the business of
life--more, the breath of life--to me. I have made many; and perhaps you
have followed some of them, on Broadway. Perhaps you have seen a play of
mine announced for early production in London. There was mention of it
in the program at the Palace. That was the business which kept me in
England. The project has been abandoned now and I am free to go back
home.

Thus you see that when you granted me the privilege of those seven
letters you played into my hands. So, said I, she longs for mystery and
romance. Then, by the Lord Harry, she shall have them!

And it was the tramp of Captain Fraser-Freer's boots above my head that
showed me the way. A fine, stalwart, cordial fellow--the captain--who
has been very kind to me since I presented my letter of introduction
from his cousin, Archibald Enwright. Poor Archie! A meek, correct little
soul, who would be horrified beyond expression if he knew that of him I
had made a spy and a frequenter of Limehouse!

The dim beginnings of the plot were in my mind when I wrote that first
letter, suggesting that all was not regular in the matter of Archie's
note of introduction. Before I wrote my second, I knew that nothing but
the death of Fraser-Freer would do me. I recalled that Indian knife I
had seen upon his desk, and from that moment he was doomed. At that
time I had no idea how I should solve the mystery. But I had read and
wondered at those four strange messages in the Mail, and I resolved that
they must figure in the scheme of things.