It was probably not difficult for Bray to keep journalists such as these
in the dark. So their great ungainly sheets come out in total ignorance
of a remarkable story in Adelphi Terrace. Famished for real news, they
begin to hint at a huge war cloud on the horizon. Because tottering
Austria has declared war on tiny Serbia, because the Kaiser is to-day
hurrying, with his best dramatic effect, home to Berlin, they see all
Europe shortly bathed in blood. A nightmare born of torrid days and
tossing nights!

But it is of the affair in Adelphi Terrace that you no doubt want to
hear. One sequel of the tragedy, which adds immeasurably to the mystery
of it all, has occurred, and I alone am responsible for its discovery.
But to go back: I returned from mailing your letter at dawn this morning, very tired
from the tension of the night. I went to bed, but could not sleep.
More and more it was preying on my mind that I was in a most unhappy
position. I had not liked the looks cast at me by Inspector Bray, or his
voice when he asked how I came to live in this house. I told myself
I should not be safe until the real murderer of the poor captain
was found; and so I began to puzzle over the few clues in the
case--especially over the asters, the scarab pin and the Homburg hat.