murderer. I was very
sorry to do this, as I rather liked that particular person, but
when one has such ingenious readers, what can one do? You can't let
anybody boast that he guessed aright, and, in spite of the trouble
of altering the plot five or six times, I feel that I have chosen
the course most consistent with the dignity of my profession. Had I
not been impelled by this consideration I should certainly have
brought in a verdict against Mrs. Drabdump, as recommended by the
reader who said that, judging by the illustration in the "Star,"
she must be at least seven feet high, and, therefore, could easily
have got on the roof and put her (proportionately) long arm down
the chimney to effect the cut. I am not responsible for the
artist's conception of the character. When I last saw the good lady
she was under six feet, but your artist may have had later
information. The "Star" is always so frightfully up to date. I
ought not to omit the humorous remark of a correspondent, who said:
"Mortlake might have swung in some wild way from one window to
another, _at any rate in a story_." I hope my fellow-writers thus
satirically prodded will not demand his name, as I object to
murders, "at any rate in real life." Finally, a word with the
legions who have taken me to task for allowing Mr. Gladstone to
write over 170 words on a postcard. It is all owing to you, sir,
who announced my story as containing humorous elements. I tried to
put in some, and this gentle dig at the grand old correspondent's
habits was intended to be one of them. However, if I _am_ to be
taken "at the foot of the letter" (or rather of the postcard), I
must say that only to-day I received a postcard containing about
250 words. But this was not from Mr. Gladstone. At any rate, till
Mr. Gladstone himself repudiates this postcard, I shall consider
myself justified in allowing it to stand in the book.

Again thanking your readers for their valuable assistance, Yours,
etc.

One would have imagined that nobody could take this seriously, for it is
obvious that the mystery-story is just the one species of story that can
not be told impromptu or altered at the last moment, seeing that it
demands the most careful piecing together and the most elaborate
dove-tailing. Nevertheless, if you cast your joke upon the wate