My story begins on the morning of December 18, 18-, while sitting
at breakfast. Let it be understood before we go further that I was
a bachelor living in lodgings. I had been left an orphan just
before I came of age, and was thus cast upon the world at a time
when it is extremely dangerous for young men to be alone.
Especially was it so in my case, owing to the fact that at
twenty-one I inherited a considerable fortune. One thing saved me
from ruin, viz. a passionate love for literature, which led me to
make it my profession. I had at the time of my story been following
the bent of my inclinations for two years with a fair amount of
success, and was regarded by those who knew me as a lucky fellow.
That is all I think I need say concerning myself prior to the time
when my story opens, except to tell my name; but that will drop out
very soon. I had not made very great inroads into the omelette my
landlady had prepared for me when I heard the postman's knock, and
soon after a servant entered with a letter. One only. I had
expected at least half-a-dozen, but only one lay on the tray before
me.
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