Then he reached into his pocket and drew a letter which he held out to me. The envelope was wet and dirty. It was addressed to @Kendric Lane, North Old Broad street, London, England. That address was crossed out and "22 @Kirkland Street, Liverpool," was scribbled under it in the familiar hand of my guardian. That was strange, I thought. Was the letter intended for my father, who was long dead, and who had not lived at that address for more than ten years? The old man began to grin and nod as I examined the second address. I broke the seal on the envelope and found the following letter, undated, and with no indication of the place from which it was sent:
"Dear Brother -- I need your help. Come to me at once if you can. Events of vast importance to both me and to mankind depend upon your prompt acceptance of this task. I cannot tell you where I am. The bearer of this letter will bring you to me. Follow him and ask no questions. In addition, be silent, like him, regarding the subject of this letter.
