De Profundis Example

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1/31

June 10, 1936

To whom it may concern,

I am obliged to inform you, with regret, of the death of yourfriend Robert Blake. His death has been determined to have been

caused by electrical shock, or nervous tension induced by

electrical discharge during the night of June 8th. Arrangements

have been made with his family. The enclosed unfinished letter

was found on his desk, and I thought it proper to be forwarded to

you. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me at the

enclosed address.

Doctor DexterCoroner's Physician


2/31

June 30, 1936

Doctor Dexter,

I would like to thank you for sending me Robert's

letter as well as informing me of what happened to my friend.

I imagine that it cannot be easy to inform friends and

family that one they care about has died. I wish to send my

thanks and appreciation for taking up that grim task.

It is regarding what happened to my friend that I write

on further. In your letter you state that Robert died of

'electrical shock, or nervous tension induced by electrical

discharge'. This cause of death seems to be most unusual and

certainly much unexpected.

Could you please elaborate further to me on what

happened? Where was he when this accident happened? How did

it happen?

I would greatly appreciate any information that you can

give me in what happened to Robert, or direct me to any

further sources to which I could inquire. Having a clearer

picture of what happened to my late friend would do a greatdeal to ease my troubled mind.

Sincerely,

Elliot Markham


3/31

July 9, 1936

Dear Sir,

It was my pleasure as well as duty to contact someone suchas yourself who obviously cared enough to reply.

The unusual prognosis was a result of the unusual state of

the body when discovered - sitting bolt upright at his desk by the

window with all the marks of stark, convulsive fright etched upon

his twisted features. The unbroken window and lack of a more

identifiable cause of death combined with his obviously

unbalanced state of mind gave me little choice but to place

blame upon profound shock brought on by an existing nervouscondition.

I believe his death occurred sometime during the great

storm which broke just before midnight June 8th. Lightning struck

repeatedly in all parts of the city, and two remarkable fireballs

were reported. The rain was torrential with a constant fusillade of

thunder. Then, at approximately 2 AM, the lights went out all over

the city.

Students in the Psi Delta house, whose upper rear windows

look into Blake's study, noticed the blurred white face at the

westward window on the morning of the ninth, and wondered

what was wrong with the expression. When they saw the same face

in the same position that evening, they felt worried, and watched

for the lights to come up in his apartment. Later they rang the bell

of the darkened flat, and finally had a policeman force the door.

Found open upon his desk was a journal or diary

containing very peculiar writings. He seems to have prolonged his

frenzied jottings to the last, and the broken-pointed pencil was

found clutched in his spasmodically contracted right hand. I


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have read it, and as his family shows no interest in retrieving it, I

will send it on to you under separate cover.

I remain,



5/31

July 20, 1936

Dr. Dexter,

I would like to thank you for elaborating on the

details of what happened to Robert. I find that reading the

explanation is a double-edged sword. As much as my mind is

relieved in hearing the details - it is further burdened by

questions and a heavy conscience.

I imagine that you get the friend or relative who

continues to push for answers and who will not believe the

explanations of the cause of death which is given. I do not

wish to present myself as one of those individuals. I know

my friend seemed to be showing signs of increased imbalance

recently which seems to support his stated cause of death.

Despite this fact, his death seems to be most unusual.

I have trouble understanding it in full. Perhaps it is just

the shock of losing a friend whom I have known since school,

but I have a dark feeling which will not dissipate.

I would very much appreciate the papers which you

mentioned in you last letter. I hope that those papers willanswer some more of my questions and lay this dark topic to

rest.

Sincerely,

Elliot Markham


6/31

July 29, 1936

Dear Sir,

I have sent the diary, you should have received it by now.While its fevered writings may contain some answers, it's more

likely to raise many more questions. I admit to reading it while I

contemplated Mr Blake's cause of death, but I am at a loss to

explain the reported events found therein.

I remain,

Doctor Dexter

Coroner's Physician


7/31

August 19, 1936

Dr. Dexter,

I have read over Robert's diary and I am afraid that I

have found no more answers. The bizarre names he mentions

are foreign and meaningless to me as are their implications.

Robert has always been neck-deep in fiction and I imagine

that the names are from his last works as a writer making

their way onto the page which you sent to me. He did,

however, mention the 'Shining Trapezohedron' before in his

letters.

If I am not mistaken, he believed that the 'Shining

Trapezohedron' was the object which had summoned the

creature which he believed was stalking him. I imagine that

his fear and paranoia mixed with his predisposition to

fiction and fantasy is what brought him to his wits end. I

know his condition was fueled by the damned superstitious

foreigners who cite god and the devil for any mildly obscure

happening.

Answers remain obfuscated and I fear that what had

truly brought Robert to his unfortunate end may never beknown. I am told that it is natural to dig for deeper

meaning and explanation after an event like this, but I have

had enough of that. It is clear to me that Robert's own

anxiety, paranoia and delusions got the best of him and I

will stop looking beyond the obvious reality.

I am grateful for your responses and for the time you

have taken to write them.

Sincerely,

Elliot Markham

P.S. I have an unrelated question regarding deaths. I

understand that you are a coroner's physician and you may

have some insight which could be of use to me.


8/31

I am an investigative reporter by profession and I am

currently investigating a number of suicides in the

Philadelphia area. My aim is to see if there is any

correlation between the deaths and the current economic

depression and consequent loss of work. In this

investigation I have found that a preponderance of the dead

had jumped to their deaths and in many of these cases there

have been anomalous circumstances.

In six of the twenty cases which I investigated -

nearly a third - the photos of the deceased showed an odd

shock of white hair in an otherwise dark coiffure. Is this a

normal post-mortem occurrence?


9/31

September 8, 1936

Dear Elliot

It's good that you are able to put Robert Blake's deathbehind you, as it was a tragedy, and unfortunate occurrence for

all concerned. However, do not concern yourself about the

"Shining Trapezohedron" as I believe in a "better safe than sorry"

policy when dealing with the mysterious and unknown. My only

regret is that someone found out and reported what I'd done with

it.

As to these "suicides" that you write of, I can think of no

physical reason why their deaths should result in such a peculiarcosmetic change like you describe. Perhaps the reverse instead is

true, that the same psychic shock that caused their hair to change,

is also responsible for their deciding to commit such a final

irrevocable act. I will consult with some of my associates on the

matter. If you have any more questions, please feel free to write. I

confess that your story has aroused my curiosity.

I remain,

Doctor Dexter

Coroner's Physician


10/31

September 25, 1936

Doctor Dexter,

I mentioned in my last letter that I was an

investigative reporter for a prominent newspaper in

Philadelphia. A couple of months ago I began to investigate

a number of suicides in the Philadelphia area. The rate of

suicides has risen to an unusually high level. I caught wind

of this from a contact I have in the police department and I

began to investigate the unusual number of suicides in order

to see if there was a connection to the current economic

depression.

I investigated the living situations of a number of the

recently deceased. I concluded that there was no obvious

connection to the economic situation and therefore no

business story. Some of the deceased were actually doing

reasonably well in the financial realm - and the vast

majority of them were at least employed in some capacity and

were making a comfortable living.

Despite seeing no immediate business connection, I

found a number of irregularities. One man who jumped to hisdeath had just become affianced, another had just purchased

a house. Many of them had no history of depression or

psychiatric illness and their family and friends could not

believe that the individual had committed suicide.

Beyond the apparent lack of motive for a number of

these deaths, in the post-mortem photos which I received, a

large percentage of them had a noticeable shock of white

hair. From other photos that I found of the deceased, noneof them had this before their death. When I asked people who

knew them, none of the deceased were noted to have had this

shock of white hair the last time they were seen alive.

According to the police the white hair was likely

associated with the psychological state of a suicidal


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individual. That answer has not satisfied me and I have

continued to investigate these events to find my own answers.

I have burned up a lot of my good will with my boss in order

to stay on this case, given its lack of a solid business

connection.

Another unusual thing which has encouraged me to

continue with this is that all of the dead with the white

shock of hair had jumped to their deaths. When I pointed

this out to the investigators, it was shrugged off as an

association with the shock of the fall or an undeterminable

psychological disorder and mental instability.

In some ways I am not entirely sure what I am looking

for in these cases, but something definitely does not add up.

Why would these individuals who seemingly have no reason to

kill themselves hurl themselves off of the roofs of their

apartment buildings?

I am very disappointed with the detective looking into

these incidents for not entertaining the idea of searching

for a deeper explanation and, more recently, for not

returning my messages.

I appreciate your response and your professional input

as it has thus far been of assistance. I will keep you

informed of any developments if you are still interested.

Sincerely,Elliot Markham


12/31

October 28, 1936

Dear Elliot,

I am definitely still interested, although I admit you haveme at a loss. My associates have not yet ventured any kind of

opinion, but in my experience what you describe has no basis in

normal clinical psychiatry.

Do you suspect foul play? From what you describe these

suicides should be considered "atypical". What medical

professionals have been assigned to this case? They do not seem to

be fulfilling their usual roll.

I have one acquaintance, a Dr. Armitage, who is much more

experienced in the arcane than I, who I will try and contact.

I remain,

Doctor Dexter

Coroner's Physician


13/31

November 17, 1936

Doctor Dexter,

Thank you for writing back to me. In my work I had

forgotten about our correspondence. There have been many

developments and much has been uncovered. I will start from

where I last left off with you.

I have remained convinced that there is something else

involved with the unusual suicides about which I have spoken

to you. From the time of my last letter to you, three more

deaths have occurred - two of them evincing the white shock

in the hair and with no immediately apparent motive for

suicide. One of them was a father of two children, another a

policeman. After much insistence on my part my boss gave me

two weeks to come up with a presentable story. I got to work

immediately.

I began to look for some connection between the

deceased: something they all had in commmon. I went through

each of their homes; I went through any records that I could

get my hands on; I spoke with their families, their friends

and the last people to see them alive. I determined thatthey were of different ages, lived in different parts of

town and had different types of jobs.

My wife has routinely complained of my 'obsession' with

this case and how my work has taken over our house. I have

been using the family room downstairs as my secondary office

as I needed more space. My small office upstairs is too

cramped for me to hold the large amounts of paper I have

accumulated. Fortunately my old apartment had yet to be sold,so I returned to the dusky apartment across town and I have

made that my office. Now she complains of my never being

home - for some people, there is no pleasing.

On the last day of my second week, I finally made a

breakthrough in this case. I was reviewing the notes I had


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taken while interviewing the widow of the most recently

deceased man. She mentioned something which I had heard two

other times but thought nothing of - gambling problems. It

was as though a bolt of lightning struck my head and this

whole case suddenly became much clearer.

I scrambled through the mountain of papers and notes on

my desk. Three of the dead men were known to be gamblers.

This also explained why the typical motive for suicide,

being financial crisis, did not apply. Many of these men

were all comparably well off. These were not men who gambled

because they had no other option - they did it because they

enjoyed it and because they could.

Despite a loud and public argument, I was unable to

convince my boss to extend my deadline. As a result my

ability to pursue this investigation has become much more

limited and I have burned up a lot of the good will which I

have accumulated. I have since been working on this case

when I can during working hours and immediately after work

long into the night. I have found it convenient to sleep at

the apartment some nights.

I remain hesitant to suggest a theory of the deaths,but I believe there is a connection to the gambling. I have

been seeking some proof to present to the police and to my

newspaper. My next objective will be to confirm my theory.

If that theory is true, then I will finally have made a

connection among the deaths in otherwise unrelated cases.

Any help or insight you can provide would be very much

appreciated. If you have any associates such as the doctor

whom you mentioned who you believe might be able to assistplease include them. I must leave off this letter here, as I

have another long and sleepless night ahead of me.

Elliot Markham


15/31

December 8, 1936

Dear Elliot,

I read your recent missives, and I feel the stirings of worry.Do not allow this obsession to investigate take over your life. Do

not jeopardize either your professional or home life. I've never

known any woman who would put up with being ignored for very

long.

I do not know if this might help you with your research, but

I'd like to point out that when people gamble, what they gamble

for isn't always money.

On a side note, I do not suppose that you have recently

visited Providence in your investigations? The only reason I

mention this is that my neighbors have mentioned seeing a

mysterious man exploring the area and paying particular

attention to my home.

I remain,



16/31

January 21, 1937

Doctor Dexter,

I write to you in a state of excitement. I am right. I

know it now.

After so much time, so much work and so many doubts -

we can finally find out the truth to these deaths. I know it

is not suicide, or at least not simple suicide caused by

'normal' factors. There is something else that is going on

and I know that it relates to this gambling.

I presented my theory to the detectives with whom I had

spoken months before and they turned me away. The case was

closed, they said. I wonder if the case was ever actually

open. I know they are good men who are just doing their jobs

- they said that I needed some more proof. And that is

exactly what I have found.

I took a temporary leave of absence from work so I

could have the time to solve this case. I told that bumbling

idiot boss of mine that I would have the story of a lifetime

when I returned to the newspaper. He told me not to comeback. We are both hot tempered men and I am not surprised

that things ended like that. When I come back with the truth

which has the makings of a great news print story it will

have all been worth it to see his expression.

After speaking with the detectives I began sniffing

around different bars and gambling dens in areas which many

of the deceased had been known to frequent. None of the

places to which I went appeared to be the place that I waslooking for. Most of the people with whom I spoke didn't

recognize any of the pictures I showed of the deceased, and

those who did only recognized one or two photos - never the

entire group.


17/31

After many nights of investigating, it became clear

that the place where these men died due to their gambling

was not any place the other living gamblers of the city knew

about. I checked all the locations I could find and they

were all dead ends. There was only one option left: the

private locations. The very private ones. It was the only

answer that made sense. I started poking my nose around

deeper, asking about private gambling locations, betting on

exotic things and placing unusual wagers.

What led me to the next layer of this conspiracy was a

chance encounter with a random patron in a grimy bar. I had

progressed to the point of talking to anyone I could find

while avoiding those I had pestered to the point of anger.

Just as I was about to move on from that bar, a well-dressed

man came into the building. I had not seen him before in any

of the many bars and gambling locations to which I had been.

I showed him some of the pictures and he recognized one of

them. He said that he had seen one of the deceased walking

in the area of 4th and 44th streets. It's a warehouse

district. It had been a booming transportation hub in the

twenties but it was effectively a derelict now.

A feeling of excitement began to grow in me as I askedaround more about this new area of interest. I visited some

neighboring shops and a nearby apartment building and

interviewed anyone that I saw on the street. A number of

people said that they had seen different people in the area

late at night. Many different people, sometimes travelling

alone and other time in small groups. Some were dressed

nicely in suits, others looked homeless or poor. They would

come and go throughout the night with no apparent reason.

It was hard to dig up this information and for some

reason most people I spoke to seemed reluctant to talk. It

was as though a dark shadow had fallen onto this district

and all those around the shadow were scared or reluctant to

speak of it.


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I presented all this information to my contact in the

police department, along with one more piece of information.

One of the buildings, a massive abandoned warehouse which

used to be the hub of a successful shipping company, had

many foot prints in the snow leading to it. Too many to be

anything else but a gathering place. I checked the records

and this place has no active legal business operating out of

it. I concluded that this was the real deal.

This is all conjecture at this point, but I have a

theory as to what is going on. I did not convey the full

import of my theory to the police because I lack any

credible evidence. I only convinced them that there is

something illegal going on. I admit that my complete

hypothesis is a bit too much for even me to fully accept. I

have not mentioned it to anyone else, but I will share it

with you.

I think it is organized crime. Mafia, crime lords, like

Capone. A high stakes gambling ring which has been

disguising murders as suicides to fool the police. I have no

way of knowing for sure, but we will find out. Tomorrow

night we are going to raid the place. I finally convinced my

contact in the police to take a leap of faith and to trustme.

Oh and about being followed, I wouldn't worry too much

about it. Even at the peak of my activity, digging up

information about scandals, crimes - and now this with

organized crime - no one has come trailing my footsteps or

even seemed to notice me.

Sincerely,

Elliot Markham


19/31

January 22, 1937

Doctor Dexter,

It doesn't make any damned sense! My contact, four

other officers and myself raided the warehouse last night.

We prepared on an adjacent street and then we drove up to

the warehouse on 4th street. We broke down the front door in

the old warehouse, right where all of those foot prints were

leading. Inside there was nothing. Nothing at all.

We saw exactly what one would expect: a large, empty

dusty place that hadn't been used in years. A search of the

building revealed that aside from a couple of squatters, no

one had been there for a long time.

My contact was furious. He had put a lot on the line

and finding nothing at all would really throw his

credibility into the dirt. He stormed off and the other

officers followed him out of the old dark building.

I stood there for a while, flabbergasted. I was so

convinced that this was the place! No other option made

sense. I had several people tell me they had seen a numberof the dead on my list in this area after dark. I was told

that there were groups of people discretely traveling here

at night and this building was the one where quite literally

to which all the tracks led.

I really do not understand why or how I was wrong.

There must be something that I have missed!

Elliot Markham


20/31

February 18, 1937

Dear Elliot

I am at a loss to explain the mystery. Perhaps the answer isthat you merely picked the wrong night. Perhaps they adhere to a

certain schedule that, of course, you could not know of, meeting

only at predetermined times such as certain phases of the moon. I

have faith you will be able to sort it out.

As to the mysterious stranger, I only mentioned him in case

you had found yourself in my neck of the woods during your far

reaching investigations and I worried I had missed your visit. No

doubt it was merely some lost tourist, or someone with a faultymemory of an old address.

I remain,

Doctor Dexter

Coroner's Physician


21/31

April 26, 1937

Doctor Dexter,

I have been staring at my typewriter in the corner of

my cluttered dusky office. I keep watching it as the days go

by, knowing that I need to write to you and tell you what

has happened since our last correspondence, I have been

putting it off but the damned typewriter's presence keeps

reminding me of what I would prefer to forget.

It was a tough couple days following the failed raid to

that abandoned warehouse. I returned home to my house and my

waiting wife. The days went by slowly as I sat and thought

about what I had missed in this case. Our money has been

running out rather quickly and I would need to return to

work soon. I was also avoiding returning to work - I cannot

stand the thought of returning to my old boss to beg for my

job back without having something to show the smug bastard

to prove that I was right. If nothing more than in

frustration, or perhaps desperation, I returned to the

warehouse.

It was a moonless night when I returned to the buildingand the snow had melted away leaving no more foot print

evidence if there had been any more traffic to or from the

old warehouse. The street was deathly silent as it always is

in this area of town but for some reason it was more

unnerving that night. Perhaps because the chill of winter

had left and the streets being this silent in spring feels

unusual even at night. I saw no one on the streets as I

walked to the warehouse and it was as though everyone was

hidden away inside their homes still hibernating.

When I arrived in front of the old warehouse I saw that

the door's lock was still broken from when we broke it

during our raid of this building weeks ago. I know that a

part of me was hoping to see the lock repaired or replaced.

Mobsters wouldn't leave their front door unlocked and


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unguarded like this. I felt the frustration return as it

appeared that my trip out here was another vain action and

another waste of time. I decided to go into the warehouse

since I had already traveled all this way.

The front door opened easily and I walked into the

dusty old building for the second time. It was terribly dark,

the only illumination came from the streetlamps outside

which fought to penetrate the boarded up windows of the

building. I walked around in the great open space, looking

at some of the old boxes and other leftover garbage from the

last business which used to operate out of here.

As I was about to leave I saw an electrical box on a

far wall. I walked over to it not expecting much. As I

walked closer I saw that there was a thick cable running

from the electrical box along the edge of the wall. Curious,

I followed the cable and in a cluttered back corner it ran

through the floor downwards into a trap door.

Was something hidden beneath the floors? My heart leapt

with hopeful joy. Was I right after all? I opened the trap

door and peered downwards into what I can only imagine used

to be an old basement. There was a faint yellow light at thebottom of a rusty ladder - a light was on down there. I had

no portable light of my own, but I climbed down anyways

hoping that against all the odds I was not still wrong.

While climbing down the ladder I felt all of the old

feelings of the thrill of the investigation return. To dig

up a lead out of nothing, to follow it and to see that I had

been right all along and then turn nothing more than what

was an idea or a lead into a major story. One that woulddefinitely be front page and would make my name. That is

what I thought and what I hoped for while I climbed down the

rusty ladder.

When my boots touched the cold stone floor below, I was

filled with an abrupt feeling of anxiety. All the thoughts


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and thrills of the investigation were suddenly vacant,

leaving me standing in this old tunnel in the middle of the

night feeling worried. My heart began to beat quickly and

the memories of our mutual connection Robert Blake came to

the front of my mind entirely unbidden.

I am not sure if it was an old basement, maintenance

tunnel or some old sewer system - but the ladder brought me

to a series of damp brick and stone hallways. The ladder

came down in a 'T' section of the tunnel hallways, giving me

three different options for directions to travel in.

Somewhat unnerved, I continued forward down one of the

hallways picking a direction at random. I reminded myself of

all the times I have done similar investigations like this

alone. Being in the shady streets late at night had never

bothered me before, however now for some reason I was now

struck with a feeling of dread and heightened anxiety.

Crude light bulbs had been fastened to the ceiling with

one appearing every thirty feet or so. The wires connecting

them were strung in unceremonious loops connecting each

light in the winding hallways. The lights would flicker and

dim in irregular intervals as though the power was

experiencing brownouts. As I walked along the hallway I wascontinually assaulted by the most irrational fear I have

ever experienced and it took all of my resolve to not turn

around and go home. I had to know what was down here.

After walking for what felt like an hour, I finally

came to the end of a hallway which turned into another T

section. My head was swimming and I felt like I was in a

maze. Picking another direction, again at random, I

continued through the hallways. The hallway began to slopedownwards descending deeper into the ground. I imagine that

I had to be well out from beneath the warehouse by now.

Where were these tunnels going?

The slope continued downwards and the lights strung up

on the ceiling became further and further apart with


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intervals of darkness now appearing in between the dimming

yellow lights. After walking for what felt as though it was

a long time, I saw darkness ahead of me with no further

light. Originally I thought that the lights had simply ended

and there was only dark hallway continuing forward - but as

I neared I saw that the darkness ahead was in fact an open

space ahead of me.

The room ahead of me seemed to radiate an unnatural

feeling which I find hard to articulate here - but some

concoction of wrongness and secrecy. I crept towards the

room feeling both drawn towards it and indescribably

repulsed by it at the same time. I came to the threshold and

I peered into the room beyond, if you could call it a room.

The walls of the hallways up unto this point were made of

damp brick or stonework but the walls of this room seemed to

be of raw dirt or rock with rough uneven scrape marks on the

walls as though it had been dug out by hand. The room was

asymmetrical and as my eyes adjusted I saw there were

benches and tables in the room.

The faint lights began to brighten on their own accord

as I saw a large black shape in the center of the room. As I

took the sight in I saw what was a great statue or sculptureof something ... draconic. I have long thought about what it

was that I had seen in that room, but I cannot remember the

details except in the most broad description of the statue

being 'draconic', unnatural and different from anything I

had ever seen before.

I remember staring at it and feeling as though my body

was frozen in place. I felt awe and fear - fear that I

cannot describe and I broke out into a spontaneous coldsweat. I heard the noise of a door slam somewhere and it

broke me out of my trance. I ran out of that cursed room and

back towards the way I had come down here.

The lights in their cycle of dimming and brightening

seemed to pulse with my every footstep and it felt as though


25/31

someone was chasing me around the bends and turns - just out

of sight and yet right behind me. The lights became dimmer

and dimmer as I finally neared the ladder. To my horror the

lights went out entirely just as the ladder came into sight.

Near my exit, I felt around in the dark and by the grace of

God I felt the rusty edge of the ladder.

I swear I climbed up that ladder faster than any man

has ever climbed and once up top I slammed the trapdoor

behind me. The noise sounding like thunder in the silent

echoing warehouse and as I shut the door I had the clearest

sensation that someone was looking up at me from the

darkness underground.

I walked home briskly, pausing every few seconds to

look behind me, my nerves on edge. As my heart began to slow

down and fear began to work its way out of my system, I

began to reflect on what had just happened. I still couldn't

believe how much my imagination carried me away and how much

irrational fear had assaulted my senses. Robert's stories

had gotten to me more than I had thought.

Since this event, I have been trying to understand what

had happened and what it means. I am still at a loss.

Elliot Markham


26/31

June 6, 1937

Dear Elliot

I am sorry for the delay in my reply. I have beenexperiencing an irritating interruption in my mail service. My

letters have been arriving at odd intervals and I suspect some

may have failed to arrive at all. I have no proof (yet) that

something is amiss, it could easily turn out to be my imaginings

due to my being overly sensitive to events at this time. The postal

officials assure me that nothing suspicious is occurring.

I must say after reading your last letter, that it was quite

some story. I'd be more tempted to discount some of the moreexotic elements except for my slight involvement in the mysterious

events surrounding Robert Blake's death. Now I've learned to play

"better safe than sorry". Have you any idea what your discovery

might represent? Have you shared your discovery with the police -

or do you believe they may discount anything you claim now? I

have one question - was that cable you described as disappearing

into the basement present during the raid, or did you fail to

notice?

One thing I've noticed that has started to disturb me - you

are beginning to show all the signs of a gambler, much like those

unfortunate individuals you describe. You risk danger to gain

fame. You may need to slow down, step back and rethink just what

it is you are risking and what you hope to gain.

I remain,



27/31

September 18, 1937

Doctor Dexter,

I must first apologize for the delay in my response. It

has been weeks since I have been at that warehouse and as

much as I try I cannot recall exactly what I saw in that

basement. The only time I seem to glimpse anything of

further detail about that room is in my dreams. I wake in a

cold sweat in the middle of the night and whatever I was

dreaming, or remembering, slips away as I wake and I am left

with just the sensation of something being deeply troubling.

I tried again to discuss this case with the police

however they clearly have no interest. I cannot say that I

blame them. I still have no strong facts and I have lost

much of my credibility due to the bungled raid and my

departure from the newspaper. Since my last letter I have

been trying to piece together what all of this means. The

'suicides', the 'victims' shock of white hair, that old

warehouse, the many footprints I saw leading to and from it

in the snow, the basement tunnels and that odd room and its

unknown use. I do not remember if that cable was there the

first time that I entered the warehouse with the police.

I began to read old news articles in archives, going

back years at times, looking for something to tie all of

this together. I do not think that I really expected to find

anything of significance while going through the articles. I

just had no other ideas and I was becoming somewhat

desperate. After searching for too long, I think that I have

found something. I have a theory about what happened,

although I am reluctant to write about it here. It feels asthough saying it out loud or minnitting it to paper will

make me appear even less stable than I already do, even to

myself.

A number of years ago the following story was featured

unimportantly in the newspaper for a single day.


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"A house which was previously thought to be abandoned

was discovered to have been occupied for an unknown amount

of time by a group of unidentified individuals. The house

has been scheduled for demolition for several years and

while checking the house before the demolition, the owner of

the property found large amounts of what appeared to be

sacrilegious literature strewn about throughout the

abandoned building.

The amount of material discovered indicated that a

number of individuals had been using this property illegally

for a protracted period of time. No one was found at the

site and the questionable material was thereafter destroyed

along with the house which was demolished to make way for

new development"

The many footprints in the snow and the number of

deaths suggests to me that there is a group of people who

are acting together and who also have malicious or violent

intent of some kind. I originally jumped to the conclusion

that a group of people who are involved with murder must be

criminals. I am now questioning this assumption. The secrecy

of their meeting in an abandoned warehouse and theunwillingness of the locals to discuss the events also point

to a group of individuals who inspire fear. A group which,

once again, I immediately assumed to be affiliated with

organized crime.

Given further thought my beliefs have changed. Perhaps

I am becoming too paranoid; perhaps I am reaching too far -

but an explanation that fits would be a group of heathen or

pagan worshipers - a cult. There are many accounts ofhorrible things being committed by those who worship foul or

primitive deities. It just so happens that none of these

cases are recent.

And then there is the basement. The little that I do

remember of the basement is a feeling - an association of


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something disturbing or unnatural. Something deeply wrong

which troubled me greatly. I cannot say what it was

specifically, but I think the answer toys with me in the

dreams. The feeling of wrongness that I felt fits with this

new theory, if I did in fact stumble upon a meeting site

with similar sacrilegious material.

You are right to fault me for searching for fame and

recognition. I wanted to find the story and then to throw it

in the faces of both the Police and my former employer. More

than that, I wanted to know that I was right all along when

everyone else was wrong. Things have now changed somehow.

Jobs and promotions, credit and fame just don't seem to

matter as much anymore. I don't know why I am still

investigating these deaths. It feels as though I just have

to know.

I would like to hear your thoughts,

Elliot Markham


30/31

October 13, 1937

Dear Elliot

If I were you, I'd give the police a little time to cool downand forget. There can be no advantage gained by badgering

them until they treat you like some type of undesirable to be

avoided. In the meantime don't give up searching if you truly

believe you have a story worthy of the effort.

As to that odd basement you continue to see in your dreams,

I find that trying to force the mind to reveal what it does not wish

to reveal only causes you grief. It will open again when the time is

right. Perhaps the truth will reveal itself to you in these verydreams.

I have a question about that house you described, the one

where the suspected cult was located - before its destruction. Was it

located anywhere near the current location of the warehouse? I

just wondered if the two locals were close to one another.

On a more personal note, I've recently had the most peculiaroccurrence. I seem to have a twin wandering the city here. A very

close friend complained recently that I had walked right past him

at the University library without even the courtesy of a welcoming

hello, or even any signs of recognition. I know for a fact that I

haven't been at that library for at least a fortnight, and in fact

on the afternoon in question, I was peacefully napping after

having unexpectedly fallen asleep in the sunny warmth of my own

living room.

I'm suddenly reminded of a similar problem I had several

years ago (which I'd put completely out of my head until this very

moment) - I was susceptible to momentary blackouts, and would

awaken to find myself in unfamiliar surroundings. Sometimes I

had a true adventure (and later quiet laugh) trying to return


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home from unknown locations. Doctors could find nothing wrong,

and the problem eventually faded away on its own leaving no

long lasting effects.

I remain, Doctor Dexter

Coroner's Physician

De Profundis Example

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