letter with him, and of course he came to understand it properly. A little
later a man called Wood told me he had found some letters which I had written
to Lord Alfred Douglas in a suit of clothes which Lord Alfred had given to him.
He gave me back some of the letters and I gave him a little money. But the
letter, a copy of which had been sent to Beerbohm Tree, was not amongst them.

"Some time afterwards a man named Allen called upon me one night in Tite Street,
and said he had got a letter of mine which I ought to have.

"The man's manner told me that he was the real enemy. 'I suppose you mean that
beautiful letter of mine to Lord Alfred Douglas,' I said. 'If you had not been
so foolish as to send a copy of it to Mr. Beerbohm Tree, I should have been glad
to have paid you a large sum for it, as I think it is one of the best I ever
wrote.' Allen looked at me with sulky, cunning eyes and said:

"'A curious construction could be put upon that letter.'

"'No doubt, no doubt,' I replied lightly; 'art is not intelligible to the
criminal classes.' He looked me in the face defiantly and said:

"'A man has offered me L60 for it.'

"'You should take the offer,' I said gravely; 'L60 is a great price. I myself
have never received such a large sum for any prose work of that length. But I
am glad to find that there is someone in England who will pay such a large sum
for a letter of mine. I don't know why you come to me,' I added, rising, 'you
should sell the letter at once.'

"Of course, Frank, as I spoke my body seemed empty with fear. The letter could
be misunderstood, and I have so many envious enemies; but I felt that there was