Fragment of letter, part burnt, found at the edge of Hampstead Heath, October 1887
….. I can only suppose that the attack was intended to silence me, although I confess, my dear cousin, that I have not the slightest intimation as to the reason why this should have occurred. If you, as the brains of the family, manage to have any thoughts, I suppose you had best share them, because I doubt anything further will strike me- unless more assailants return! Apropos of that, I should explain that it is clear they were looking for me, since they were far from the Rookeries which were quite clearly their origin, and knew my name, for they enquired if I were Mr Moran, before they began their assault. In answer to the question which is probably on your lips, as you read this (you must stop moving your lips as you read letters, as it’s most unbecoming in a self proclaimed Blue Stocking), I am not too much the worse for wear, through a fortunate combination of the athletic and pugilistic skills that Harrow instilled in me at such a cost. I refer, of course, mostly, to the 400 yards dash, and the ancient Marathon race, in which I excelled. The bruises are already fading, and I was fortunate enough to engage the House Surgeon to St Thomas’ to dress my knuckles when I returned to Town.
Tomorrow I shall set out north, to see if I can find any clues to the meaning of the writings of our mutual ancestor- although the prospect of a journey to Bamburgh at this time of year fills me with distaste, whilst the prospect of the lodgings I am likely to obtain are scarcely better! Still, you perceive in this how serious I am to get to the bottom of this…. The possibility of meeting Great-Aunt Martha is simply the icing on the cake (or possibly the frost on my soup, if I recall the heating arrangements in Bamburgh correctly).
I cannot but remark upon the coincidence of being set upon the very day that I made notes upon the works of our ancestor. I am fortunate, indeed, that I was not robbed.
I can hear the cab approaching, however, so I must be brief. I shall write again from Bamburgh. I tried calling upon you earlier, again, but still you were away from home, and your maid did not know when you might return.
In short, therefore, I am bruised, and confused, and anticipate cold ahead, but I remain
Your Affectionate Cousin,
Anthony.
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