YES, Mr. Editor, I promised to send you a true story; behold the fulfilment of my promise. You will never find a truer one. Everyone, who is old enough to remember anything at all, must remember the great "Rannerdale Mystery" in 186—. I will not give the exact year, because it is not necessary. The key to that mystery has never been given — the police, it is needless to say, did not discover it. The oath of secrecy which has tied my tongue and fettered my pen for years is now ended. I am free to speak, to write the truth. I, the great contriver of that mystery, am at last able to explain how the genius of one man baffled the detectives, professional and amateur. Perhaps some of your readers may not believe me; but lovers of the truth never allow a little thing like that to annoy them.

       First, let me give a brief account of the person whose disappearance caused such a sensation nearly twenty years ago; and next, for the benefit of those who do not remember, let me recount, as briefly as possible, the chief circumstances of the Rannerdale Mystery.

       Charles Heathorp was an orphan. His mother died shortly after his birth; when he was ten years old, his father also died, leaving Charles to the guardianship of his younger brother, William Heathorp; leaving also a will by which all his property passed absolutely to his son on his attaining the age of 24. If he did not attain that age, then it passed to William Heathorp for life, and after him to his children. It is evident, therefore, that however much love Mr. William Heathorp might feel for his nephew, the death of the nephew before the age of 24 would not be such a very great calamity, as far, at least, as his uncle's worldly interests were concerned. Charles Heathorp was a handsome, bright, merry young fellow. He never got on, however, very well with his uncle William, who was rather a gloomy personage, being a strict Evangelical, as was his wife. In fact, Charlie did not get on with any of the family. He did not like his cousins, either the boys or the girls; he did not like his aunt Judith; he did not like his uncle William; so that, when he got a clerkship in the office of Her Majesty's Commissioners for Confusing the Public Accounts, he was very glad, as it necessitated his living away from his uncle, his cousins, and his aunt for, at least, the greater part of the year.

       But there was one relation for whom he had a great regard; and that was an old maiden lady, a Miss Grattan, a cousin of his father's. Miss Grattan was 70 years old. She enjoyed the best of health, and was remarkable for her great strength of mind and very domineering spirit. She had taken a great fancy to Charlie, and more than hinted that, if he behaved himself, she should make him her heir. Now, this resolution on the part of Miss Grattan did not at all coincide with the views of Mr. William Heathorp, who thought that his four uninteresting sons, and his three equally uninteresting daughters, deserved to succeed to the old lady's money much more than Charlie, who, to tell the truth, was rather a scapegrace. So much it is necessary to tell about the Heathorp family, in order that what follows may be understood.

       On August 10th, 186— Charlie Heathorp, being then nearly 20 years old, took his usual four weeks' vacation. The first three days he spent with his uncle William at his house near Watford; thence he went to pay a visit of two days to Miss Grattan. About the 18th of August he went to some friends of his of the name of Monson, who lived in Yorkshire, intending to spend the rest of his vacation there. Mr. Monson had some good grouse and partridge shooting, so that Charlie bid fair to have a very nice time of it.

       It is now necessary to speak of a person who played a far more important part in the Rannerdale Mystery than was ever suspected. Charlie Heathorp's closest friend at the office was one Robert Keen, known among his friends and companions as "Bob." He was not blessed with much of this world's goods. His family were very poor; and he had nothing to look forward to but the salary he got from his office, and any money he might earn by his own talents. Bob looked upon his prospects in life as anything but gloomy. He was a young man of very considerable talent; he could use his pen to some purpose, and, though his services were not so highly paid as they ought to have been, he still managed to earn a fair amount of pocket money by writing for the magazines. He was also an excellent amateur actor; his power of making up his face and disguising himself was, indeed, so remarkable, that he often excited the envy even of professional actors of long standing.^* Bob was two or three years older than Charlie Heathorp. On this occasion he did not take his leave just at the same time as his friend; for owing to Charlie's engagement with the Monsons, the two did not, as was their general custom in the vacation, take a walking tour together.

* We here omit about a page or two containing a list of all the parts played by Mr. Robert Keen and criticisms thereon; also an account of some of his published works, neither of which have, perhaps, much to do with the story.

       In course of time Charlie's vacation, like all other pleasant and unpleasant periods in life, came to an end. He was due at the office on the 8th of September; but he did not turn up; nor did the Secretary, in whose department he was, hear anything of him. As he did not put in an appearance next day, and no communication arrived from him, on the evening of the 9th the Secretary wrote to Mr. Heathorp, to ask him if Charlie was ill; or if not, when he intended to return to his official duties. Uncle William had heard nothing from his loving nephew for two weeks. He immediately telegraphed to the Monsons, to know why Charlie had not returned to the office. To his astonishment he received a telegram, in reply, from Mr. Monson to say that his nephew had left there on the 30th of August, having been called away suddenly on business. Mr. Heathorp immediately telegraphed to inquire if they knew where he had gone. The answer was that he had not told anyone where he was going, but that Mr. Monson believed he had gone back to London.

       The next day brought no tidings of the missing young man. Enquiries were made at the office among his old friends, especially of Bob Keen, who, however, declared that he knew nothing about Charlie's movements; that he had had only one letter from his friend during his vacation, and that was written from Miss Grattan's.

       As the situation seemed a serious one, the police at Scotland Yard were communicated with, the description of Charlie Heathorp was placed in their hands, and enquiries were at once commenced with the object of tracing where he went, after leaving Mr. Monson's, on the 30th of August. For three or four days the result of the inquiry was very meagre; at last it was ascertained that a person, answering in every respect to the description of Charlie Heathorp, took a ticket on the 30th of August, from the nearest station to Mr. Monson's place, for King's Cross; but the most careful inquiries failed to trace his arrival in London. One of the cleverest detectives in the office now took up the case; he soon succeeded in discovering that Charlie had never really gone any further on his way to London than York. From there he appeared to have gone to Lancaster, on the ist of September; thence he was traced to Cockermouth, where he arrived on the 2nd of September. He had left most of his luggage at Mr. Monson's, saying that he would send for it afterwards. When he arrived at Cockermouth he had nothing with him but a leather bag and knapsack. Here he seemed to have met a young man about his own age, with reddish hair and a slight limp, who had walked into Cockermouth, with a knapsack, on the previous day. On the evening of the end of September, Charlie and his companion both set out, with knapsacks and walking-sticks, for Loweswater; and slept that night at a quiet farm-house under Melbreak Fell. Next morning, about ten o'clock, they left, saying that they were going to make their way over by some new road to Keswick. A man who was working at a farm in Rannerdale saw them going up that valley, and spoke to them about twelve o'clock on that day, the 3rd of September. After that all trace of the two young men was lost.

       The detective now in charge of the case, whose name was Finder, started from the place where they were last seen, and made a thorough search on the neighbouring fells. For two days his industry met with no reward; but, on the third day, he made an important discovery. On the banks of a lonely tarn at the head of a small valley, which was frequented only by sheep and an occasional shepherd, decided signs of a struggle were found; at some little distance there was a pool of blood, and a walking-stick, covered with blood and with what was apparently human hair, was discovered hidden in some thick grass, within a hundred yards of the same spot. The tarn was carefully dragged, and a bundle of clothes, also stained with blood, were fished up; they were torn, and some of the buttons were missing. These clothes were identified, almost beyond all doubt, as those in which Charlie Heathorp had last been seen. The next day a shepherd, who had been crossing the fell near the tarn above mentioned, picked up a razor, on which were stains of blood. This razor was also identified as having belonged to Charlie Heathorp.

       It may be guessed that it was not long before these discoveries leaked out and became generally known, through the medium of the press, in spite of all Mr. Finder's efforts to keep them secret His object was — supposing there to have been a murder, which now seemed most probable — not to put the guilty person on his or her guard, until he had succeeded in getting some clue which might lead to his detection. The next thing to be discovered was — supposing Charlie Heathorp to have met with foul play — what had become of the young man with reddish hair and a limp who met Charlie at Rannerdale? Nothing could be discovered as to this individual. The landlord of the inn at Cockermouth, where they stopped to dine, and the owner of the farm-house at Loweswater could only say that the two young men appeared to be on very friendly terms. Heathorp's name was on the leather bag which he left behind him at Cockermouth. No one seems to have known the name of his companion.

       Finder continued his thorough examination of the neighbourhood of the tarn in which the clothes had been found. He discovered nothing more, except the traces of a fire, which had been lighted in a very retired hollow on the side of one of the mountains; no trace of any human bones were discovered in the ashes, or anything which could at all help to unravel the mystery. The only men with knapsacks, who had been met on the afternoon of the 3rd of September on the nearest road to Keswick, which anyone coming from Rannerdale would be most likely to take, were two — one an elderly man, apparently a respectable mechanic; the other, a young man, with clean-shaved face, who looked like a clerk. Neither of these two answered the description of the missing man. Charlie, I should have mentioned, had curly hair, and wore a moustache and small curling whiskers, of which he was not a little proud. Mr. William Heathorp was, as may well be imagined, in a state of no little anxiety. Although Charlie had not been a favourite with his relations, still the horrible idea that he had been murdered made the whole family very uncomfortable. The very uncertainty as to his fate only increased Mr. Heathorp's disquietude; for, unless he could prove Charlie's death, he could not claim the property of which his brother had left him the reversion; so that, though parting with his money was by no means agreeable to Uncle William, when two weeks had passed without anything having been discovered as to his nephew's fate, he instructed the police to offer a reward of one hundred pounds "for any information that would lead to the discovery of the whereabouts, if alive, of Charles Heathorp, or of his body if dead."

       He was partly moved to this act of unwonted liberality by the frequent letters, couched in very strong language, which he received from Miss Grattan, telling him that he ought to offer a reward. "Perhaps Charlie was hiding, poor boy! Afraid to return to a home where he was so cruelly treated, &c." Mr. Heathorp may have delayed taking this step towards ascertaining the fate of his nephew, in the hope that Miss Grattan might offer a reward herself. But that the old lady did not seem inclined to do; though, immediately the advertisement was out, she wrote to Uncle William to tell him that he was a "mean, stingy, old wretch," and that he "ought to a have offered a reward at least double in amount."

       Meanwhile, the end of September had come and gone, and "The Rannerdale Mystery," as it was called, remained a mystery still. Being the dull period of the year, there were several paragraphs in the daily and weekly papers, in which all sorts of rumours as to evidence "that had been brought to light" were given. The usual number of clever people wrote letters, satisfactorily explaining the whole matter from their point of view; but their explanations, however ingenious, were not of the least help towards the solution of the mystery. Mr. Finder shook his head, and confessed that he could not make it out. Bob Keen, having been the most intimate friend of the missing young man, was in great request. He was invited to Scotland Yard two or three times, but could throw no light upon the question. He had been for his holiday alone in Scotland and the Isle of Man, and returned to the office just when the inquiries about poor Charlie Heathorp were being commenced in real earnest. Time passed; and, towards the end of the second week in October, Uncle William, who was worn to a shadow with anxiety, doubled the reward offered. Miss Grattan, on her part, had not been idle. Though she would not save Mr. Heathorp's purse by offering any reward herself, she had given Mr. Finder several refreshers; and it was mainly owing to her liberality that he was enabled to devote so much time to what, unfortunately, proved a fruitless task.

       When people were really beginning to give up Charlie for dead, about the 25th of October a letter was received by the police, written from a street in Soho. The writer gave no name, but said that, if no questions were asked, he would give information which would lead to the discovery of the missing young man, who, he added, was not dead. A consultation was held between William Heathorp, Miss Grattan, and Mr. Finder; and it was ultimately determined, after a stormy discussion, to test the genuineness of this communication. Accordingly, on the 26th of October, Mr. Finder, accompanied by two police officers in plain clothes, went to the direction given; and there found, in an attic, a very shabby, elderly gentleman, who, having obtained from Mr. Finder a solemn promise that no questions would be asked if Charlie Heathorp was found alive and safe, and that the reward would be paid in full without any delay, gave him an address at a small village on the coast of Norfolk, which we will call Cliffside. There, sure enough, Charles Heathorp was found, alive, but looking pale and ill. It turned out that he had been under medical treatment, for some time, for a broken arm and other injuries. According to the account of the landlord of the house, on the 6th or 7th of September a middle-aged man, in spectacles, who looked like a foreigner, and spoke with a foreign accent, said that he wanted a room for a gentleman — an invalid, who wished to be very quiet. A room was engaged, and, on the next day, the foreigner returned with Charlie Heathorp, leaving himself that same evening. He had not been seen since. The rent had been regularly paid, but something was owing for food and to the doctor. What had really occurred between the 3rd of September, the date on which Charlie Heathorp had been last seen at Rannerdale, and the time when he reached the little Norfolk village, Cliffside, remained a mystery. The reward was paid to the shabby old man, who gave the name of Timson, and about whom nothing was known, except that he had only been in that lodging two days, that no one visited him, that he kept his door locked always, taking the key with him when he went out, and no one had been allowed to enter his room. Mr. Finder, the next day, came himself to make some inquiries about him, at the request of Mr. William Heathorp, who was far from pleased at having to part with his money: The old man had gone away, no one knew whither. Thus ended "The Rannerdale Mystery," as far as the public were concerned.

       Now for the key to that mystery, which two people only, Charlie and myself, have held for these many years.

       I must go back to the 1st of August, 186—, the year in which Charles Heathorp disappeared. On that day two young men might have been seen coming out of the house of Ikey Moss, the well-known money-lender. Their faces expressed a singular mixture of satisfaction, tempered by anxiety. One of them, who had curly hair, light moustache and whiskers, exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, "Thank Heaven! That is settled!" These two young men had just renewed a bill at three months for £150, on account of which they had already paid something like five times the amount originally advanced upon that valuable security. Ikey had renewed now, as he declared, "for the last time;" and he was never known to break his word. They knew that if, in three months from that date, they could not meet the bill, he would proceed against them with all the rigour of the law. These two young men were Charlie Heathorp and Bob Keen.

       "What I shall do when the cursed bill becomes due," said Charlie, "I don't know. It's no use going to my uncle. I dare not go to Miss Grattan. When she last paid my debts she declared that, if she ever found I put my name to a bill, I should have seen the last of her and her money. If I insure my life, and borrow on the security of what my father left me, I shall have to get two sureties, and I am sure I don't know where I am to find them. I tell you, Bob, I don't know what I shall do."

       "Don't be downhearted, Charlie," answered Bob. "There's plenty of time yet before the 3rd of November; and who knows what may turn up? I will save as much as I can towards it, and you must save, too; and, perhaps, Ikey will relent."

       "Will he?" said Charlie. "Yes; when London's paving-stones turn to butter!"

       Just at this moment they happened to be passing a Police Station. Attracted by the staring announcement, "£150 Reward," Charlie stopped to read one of the many bills posted outside the station. "Missing, since the end of May last," &c.

       "Ah!" said Charlie. "I wonder what reward they would offer for me, dead or alive, if I was missing?"

       I give you my sacred word of honour, Mr. Editor, that this chance exclamation of Charlie's fired my inventive brain with the magnificent idea, which afterwards I carried out so successfully. Let it be remembered, in justice to Charlie and myself, that it was not as if he had had affectionate parents, on whom terrible mental suffering would have been inflicted by such a deception as we practised. In fact, I think nothing delighted me more, throughout the whole affair, than the idea of screwing some money out of Mr. William Heathorp's pocket.

       Briefly, then, the design that I made and carried out was this:— First, to insure our having a little start before any inquiries could take place, it was arranged that Charlie should terminate his visit to the Monsons on some excuse which would not create any suspicion, and without acquainting his uncle or anyone else of his intention. Next, it was easy enough for me, going a walking tour alone in Scotland, to take the train to some little-frequented station near the Lake district, and to make my way over to Cockermouth on foot. I had provided every requisite for disguising myself; and, knowing thoroughly, as I did, the Lake district, I easily made my way by Wastwater and Ennerdale to Cockermouth. I purposely chose a path which tourists did not much frequent, and I changed myself into "a red-haired young man, with a limp," in a lonely spot where my only spectators were a few sheep and a stray corby-crow. When we reached the spot, on the morning of the 3rd of September, which I had already selected in my mind's eye as one in which we ran practically no risk of being observed, we proceeded as follows:— First, we tossed up who should give the other "a bloody nose." I won the toss, and, as Charlie was fortunately very prone to bleeding at the nose, he did not require a very severe blow to "tap his claret." We then proceeded to smear Charlie's clothes with blood, having first made in them "many grievous rents," and pulled the buttons off, as if they had been torn away in a violent struggle. Then we made them into a bundle, and sunk them in the tarn. After that we consoled ourselves with a very pleasant bathe. Next, with his razor, which he had in his knapsack, I proceeded to shave Charlie. In doing so, I accidentally cut him, which caused some more blood to flow. We then dressed ourselves in the disguises which we had in our knapsacks. I cut Charlie's curls off, so as to make his disguise more complete. There was nothing in the appearance of either of us to excite any suspicion. Signs of the struggle by the tarn were easily made; of course, in a friendly wrestle. The razor and stick, both stained with blood, were thrown away in places where I thought they might easily be found, if a diligent search was made. After going a little further on our way, we lighted a fire, in which I burnt thoroughly my red wig, and Charlie's hair that I had cut off. We walked together till we reached the high road; then we separated, going into Keswick at different times, and stopping at different inns. From Keswick we made our way, separately, to a quiet town in Norfolk, where we had agreed to meet. There I assumed the disguise of "the foreign gentleman" who appeared subsequently on the scene. I chose the little village of Cliffside, where Charlie was found, as a place in which a person might easily hide himself without attracting any attention. We were driving over to Cliffside in a rough dogcart, when the unfortunate accident happened by which Charlie was really hurt. He broke his arm and otherwise injured himself in the fall. I got assistance, and carried him to a neighbouring farmhouse till I could go on and secure a lodging in Cliffside. We had saved up all the money we could between us, in order to carry out our plan, but Charlie's illness made it run rather short at the end. When the first reward was offered, as it was not enough to cover the bill we had to meet at the beginning of November, I advised Charlie to lie perdu a little longer. This was all the more necessary, as he had not yet recovered from the accident.

       Of course, the old man in Soho was myself; and it was at this point in our scheme that the greatest difficulty arose. At my first interview with Mr. Finder, I could see that he suspected something; and, no doubt, had he been allowed any time for inquiry, he might have got upon the right scent; but Miss Grattan would not hear of any delay, and, although uncle William would gladly have tried everything he could to save his two hundred pounds, he was obliged to fork out. I insisted upon the reward being paid to me in the garret at Soho, because there I could avoid that close examination which might have detected my disguise. I knew very well that after I received the money I should be watched. As a fact, the police watched the house the whole of that night. I managed to escape, at a late hour, in my own dress; and I passed the officers in plain clothes, without exciting their suspicion.^* When Finder himself came to make further inquiries the old man had disappeared. There, then, is a simple explanation of "The Rannerdale Mystery." I cannot say to other young men in difficulties "Go and do likewise," for there are very few cases in which — supposing anyone else to have the brains to carry out such a plan — it would be successful.

* We have very much condensed Mr. Robert Keen's explanation of the successful trick which he invented and practised. That a man approaching forty years old should so glory in his successful deception does not, in our opinion, reflect much credit on Mr R. K.'s character.

       I said the secret was known only to Charlie and myself. I should have added, to one other person, namely, Miss Grattan. She pressed Charlie so much to tell her of what really happened, and the reason for his playing so strange a trick, that I advised him, in his own interest, to be frank with her. I was quite right. She was so immensely tickled at the idea of our having got £200 out of stingy Uncle William, that she forgave Charlie for having "put his name to a bill," and presented him with a cheque for £100. She also complimented me most highly upon my ingenuity, making me, at the same time, a very handsome present. She died some ten years ago; and Charlie succeeded to the whole of her fortune. Uncle William, too, is dead. I do not think he ever forgave Charlie for his "escapade," as he called it; and he always assigned the very worst, motives for his nephew's having so long concealed himself. Charlie, however, has behaved very handsomely to his cousins; and for that reason, probably, when they read this account, they will forgive the deception which he practised.

R. K.      

(THE END)