"That's how I feel; and I can tell you there's a bit of movement,
too, sometimes. I never wish to see bigger water than beat these
cliffs during the south-easter last March. We shook to our keel, I
can tell you."

He went to a tall cupboard in a corner, unlocked it and brought out
a square, wooden desk of old-fashioned pattern. This he opened and
produced a letter which he handed to the detective.

Brendon sat down in a chair under the open window and read this
communication slowly. The writing was large and sprawling; it sloped
slightly-upward from left to right across the sheet and left a
triangle of white paper at the right-hand bottom corner:

"DEAR BEN: It's all over. I've done in Michael Pendean and put
him where only Judgment Day will find him. Something drove me
to do it; but all the same I'm sorry now it's done--not for him
but myself. I shall clear to-night, with luck, for France. If I
can send an address later I will. Look after Jenny--she's well
rid of the blighter. When things have blown over I may come
back. Tell Albert and tell Flo. Yours,

"R. R."

Brendon examined the letter and the envelope that contained it.

"Have you another communication--something from the past I can
compare with this?" he asked.