Felix Looms, the well-known author, disappeared--or, rather, he went away--on or about June fifteenth, four years ago. He told his friends, his landlady and his publisher--he had no immediate family--he felt run down and debilitated and he meant to go away for a good long stay. He might try the Orient; then again perhaps he would go to the South Seas. When he came back, which might be in a year or two years or even three, he expected to bring with him the material for a longer and better book than any he had written. Meantime he wanted to cut loose, as he put it, from everything. He intended, he said, to write no letters while he was gone and he expected to receive none. He gave a power of …
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