The Argosy — page 83: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

70 Number Twenty-five. fully. It was covered with close pencil writing, quite legible; and I sat down to read it. ‘My Dearest FATHER,—I was a disobedient child to you and I have been rightly punished. I am dying and I don’t care to live except to disappoint my wicked, wicked husband. Don’t let him have Julius— Don't. He will murder my little boy and then everything will be his. — Oh, I have been a foolish woman! I have left him Dooly’s guardian, but I thought he was everything that was good. Take care of Julius, dear Papa. When that bad man knows that I have told you, what I solemnly swear is true, that he has tried to kill me—I saw him throw the great stone on me when I was lying where he had pushed me over the sea-wall and where he hoped I should lie till I was drowned —he will not dare to come near my boy. He has given me poison since. JI saw him. I am in such pain I do not want to live unless to see my little son once more. Ask Mr. Paul Sherratt what he knows. Your unhappy child, “ LeTITIA LOSEBY.” The lines seemed to have been scrawled hastily, but the signature was clear and firm. The sheet of note paper was the one I had given her, bearing my address embossed in one corner. When Oscar came to-me in the morning, I was still pondering over this revelation that held the key to the terrible mystery of that closed door. After consideration, we agreed that I should draw up an account of. the whole affair, including my previous acquaintance with the Losebys, but suppressing all reference to the supernatural; which, with the little water colour portrait, Oscar would take to London and convey to old Mr. Weatherhead—who no doubt would be readily found. “‘T shall await news from you “ere, at Losthaven, Schmidt, ” I said. ‘‘T must live my fancies down at any risk. I shall sleep in this room every night till I can do so undisturbed.” I am writing there at this moment. On my desk lies a letter, which gives me the information that closes all. The boy Julius is safe. That scoundrel Loseby had actually commenced to take legal proceedings to obtain possession of the child. All that is at an end. He met Schmidt (unsuspiciously) at Mr. Weatherhead’s office, and disappeared immediately, that very day, unable to face further inquiry. The boy is safe. Does the poor mother’s anxious spirit rest in peace, or have my morbid fancies gradually worn themselves out for lack of encouragement? Which- ever it is, my story ends here. My light burns low—a cold waning moon looks in on me; in the distance the great clock of Losthaven Church booms a melancholy “Two,” and the night and I are alone in the haunted room, Number Twenty-five. Gomicbooksnco