first steamer for New York. My messenger is provided
with funds. Your loving brother,
"Revis Lane."

I had often heard my father speak of my uncle Revis, who
went to America almost twenty years before I was born. Now
he was my nearest living relative. No news of him had
reached us for many years before my father died. I was
familiar with his handwriting and the specimen before me was
either genuine, or remarkably like it. If genuine he had
evidently not heard of my father's death.

Extraordinary as the message was, the messenger was more so.
He sat peering at me with a strange, half-crazed expression
on his face.

"When did you leave my uncle?" I asked.

He sat as if unconscious that I had spoken.

I drew my chair to his side and repeated the words in a loud
voice, but he did not seem to hear me. Evidently the old man
could neither hear nor speak. In a moment he began groping
in his pockets, and presently handed me a card which
contained the following words:

"If you can come, tear this card in halves and return the
right half to him."

I examined the card carefully. The words were undoubtedly in