ABSTRACT
I AM by profession a reporter, and writer for the press. I live at Pultneyville. I have always had a passion for the marvelous, and have been distinguished for my facility in tracing out mysteries, and solving enigmatical occurrences. On the night of the 17th June, 1845, I left my offce and walked homeward. The night was bright and starlight. I was revolving in my mind the words of a singular item I had just read in the Times. I had reached the darkest portion of the road, and found myself mechanically repeating: ‘An elderly gentleman a week ago left his lodgings on the Kent Road,’ when suddenly I heard a step behind me.
