Oh, the jig is up now. I am not, as might be supposed, in Portugal at this time. My efforts to undermine a certain branch of a certain secret society in London have come to an end, as the manuscripts to my stories have been found. I went against my oath of secrecy, a crime to which the penalty is deep and severe. I am in Australia now, and though I had hoped for consolation by the Prime Minister, I found that he has no way of protecting me. My contacts around the world are being hunted now, but none more so than myself. Nowhere is safe, for if any of my friends are still alive they have doubtless remained so due to an agreeance to h