It was the second Tuesday of February 1894 when we travelled down to Bath at the urgent request of Mrs Mortimer, headmistress of the Henrietta Street School for Young Ladies - a respectable institution in a respectable spa-town, lately afflicted by the ugliest sort of anonymous letter.
Three letters had reached parents in the past fortnight, alleging an indecent friendship between Mrs Mortimer and a young master from the local college. The letters were typewritten, anonymous, and detailed enough to make any father remove his daughter by the next train. Two had already done so; a third was hesitating.
We were met at the station by Mrs Mortimer in a closed brougham. Outside the school's gate at the corner of Henrietta Street stood a thin man in a worn grey ulster, the *Pall Mall Gazette* folded in his right pocket; he coughed deeply against his sleeve and watched the parents arrive without speaking. Mrs Mortimer's drawing-room held the three letters and a great unhappiness; her senior pupil, Miss Carew, was already half-suspected by the trustees and was due before them on Friday morning.