The Master of Silence

is property in the possession of my stepmother and my guardian. It was in deference to their urgent advice that I left my home in London (with little reluctance, since my lif

ity near the banks of the Mersey. I was slow to make friends, and my evenings were spent in the perusal of some story books, which I had brought with me from London. One night, not long after the

I demanded, sta

the hallway, when a gust of wind suddenly put out the candle. The door leading to the street was open, and the old man was probably a straggler come to importune me for shelter or for something to eat. As I relit the candle, he entered my room and stood facing me

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road street, London, England. The address was crossed and "22 Kirkland street, Liverpool," written under it in the familiar hand of my guardian. A strange proceeding! thought I. Was the letter intended for my father, who was long dead, and who had r

nce. I cannot tell you where I am. The bearer will bring you to me. Follow him and ask no questions. Moreover, be silent, like him, regarding the s

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arest living relative. No news of him had reached us for many years before my father died. I was familiar with his handwriting a

ger was more so. He sat peering at me with a

leave my unc

nconscious tha

to hear me. Evidently the old man could neither hear nor speak. In a moment he began gro

is card in halves and ret

s handwriting. The back of the card was covered with strange character

him to occupy my bed. He understood me readily enough and began feebly to remove his clothing, while I prepared a sofa for myself. He was soon sound asleep, but I lay awake long after the light was extinguished. He was evidently quite ill, and I determined t

at was I to do? I sat down to think, trembling with fright. I must call in a policeman and tell him all I knew about my strange visitor. No, not all; I must not tell him about the letter, thought I. My uncle might not wish it to be publish

gave him a decent burial. But while he had gone to his long rest, he had sown in my mind the seed of

ad seemed, he was certainly