The letter ran:

DEAR SIR:

Although this is an anonymous letter, I beg that you will not
consider it such, since it will be plain to you that there is good
reason for my wishing to remain nameless.

I want to tell you of some things that have taken place recently
at a little hotel in the West Fifties. No doubt you know of the
place already--the Little Montmartre.

There are several young and wealthy men who frequent this resort.
I do not dare tell you their names, but one is a well-known club-
man and man about town, another is a banker and broker, also well
known, and a third is a lawyer. I might also mention an intimate
friend of theirs, though not of their position in society--a
doctor who has somewhat of a reputation among the class of people
who frequent the Little Montmartre, ready to furnish them with
anything from a medical certificate to drugs and treatment.

I have read a great deal in the newspapers lately of the
disappearance of Betty Blackwell, and her case interests me. I
think you will find that it will repay you to look into the hint I
have given. I don't think it is necessary to say any more. Indeed
it may be dangerous to me, and I beg that you will not even show
this letter to anyone except those associated with you and then,
please, only with the understanding that it is to go no farther.

Betty Blackwell is not at this hotel, but I am sure that some of