seeing the old country once again after thirty years' absence, I have
decided to accept his invitation. I don't know when we may actually be
in Europe, but I promise you that as soon as we touch a suitable port I
will write to you again, making an appointment for you to see me in
London. But remember that if your demands are too preposterous I will
not for a moment listen to them, and that I am the last man in the world
to submit to persistent and unwarrantable blackmail.

'I am, sir,
'Yours truly,
'Francis Smethurst.'

"The second letter was dated from Southampton," continued the old man in
the corner calmly, "and, curiously enough, was the only letter which
Kershaw professed to have received from Smethurst of which he had kept
the envelope, and which was dated. It was quite brief," he added,
referring once more to his piece of paper.

"'Dear Sir,--Referring to my letter of a few weeks ago, I wish to inform
you that the _Tsarskoe Selo_ will touch at Tilbury on Tuesday next, the
10th. I shall land there, and immediately go up to London by the first
train I can get. If you like, you may meet me at Fenchurch Street
Station, in the first-class waiting-room, in the late afternoon. Since I
surmise that after thirty years' absence my face may not be familiar to
you, I may as well tell you that you will recognize me by a heavy
Astrakhan fur coat, which I shall wear, together with a cap of the same.
You may then introduce yourself to me, and I will personally listen to
what you may have to say.

'Yours faithfully,