abit to conceal your symptoms
from him?"

"Of course not. I see what you mean. Mr. Jones, I give, you my word of
honor, as I hope to be saved from this persecution, I don't know any
more than yourself what it means."

"Then--er--I am--er--to believe," replied Jones, drawling, as he always
did when interest, in his mind, was verging on excitement, "that a
simple blind threat like this--er--without any backing from your
own conscience--er--could shake you--er--as this has done? Why, Mr.
Robinson, the thing--er--may be--er--only a raw practical joke."

"But the others!" cried the visitor. His face changed and fell. "I
believe I am going crazy," he groaned. "I didn't tell you about the
others."

Diving into his overcoat pocket he drew out a packet of letters which he
placed on the desk with a sort of dismal flourish.

"Read those!" he cried.

"Presently." Average Jones ran rapidly over the eight envelopes. With
one exception, each bore the imprint of some firm name made familiar by
extensive advertising. All the envelopes were of softish Manila paper
varying in grade and hue, under one-cent stamps.

"Which is the first of the series?" he asked.

"It isn't among those. Unfortunately it was lost, by a stupid servant's
mistake, pin and all."

"Pin?"

"Yes. Where I cut open the envelope--"

"Wait a moment. You say you cut it open. All these, being one-cent
postage, must have come unsealed. Was the first different?"

"Yes. It had a two-cent stamp. It was a circular announcement of the
Swift-Reading Encyclopedia, in a sealed envelope. There was a pin bent
over the fold of the letter so you couldn't help but notice it. Its head
was stuck through the blank part of the circular. Leading from it were
three very small pins arranged as a pointer to the message."

"Do you remember the message?"

"Could I forget it! It was pricked out quite small on the blank fold of
the paper. It said: 'Make the most of your freedom. Your time is short.
Call at General Delivery, Main P. O., for your warning.' I--"

"You went there?"

"The next day."

"And found--?"

"An ordinary sealed envelope, addressed in pinpricks connected by pencil
lines. The address was scrawly, but quite plain."

"Well, what did it contain?"

"A commitment blank to an insane asylum."

Average Jones absently drew out his handkerchief, elaborately whisked
from his coat sleeve an imaginary speck of dust, and smiled benignantly
where the dust was suppose