If you have missed the previous letters you can read them here
If you would like to know the hidden message in the last letter it was: “Perfect But The Timing Device Keeps Coming Loose Any Ideas?”
Letter 4: Addressed To: Apartment 1b, 113a Botheration Street , Lichfield. The envelop was marked with two stamps, the first placed upside down in the top left corner and the second placed in the centre of the right hand edge.
My Dearest Friend,
I have enclosed a poem with my letter, darling, in the hope that it might HELP sooth your nerves and give you a little extra something to occupy your mind between now and the time we all return to Lichfield.
Considering THE contents of my last letter, I frankly was not expecting the delivery of five brass rings this morning and am quite confused as to what you mean by sending them to me? Not a single one of them fits any of my fingers and, to be honest, when a Lady thinks of receiving a ring, she expects it to be made of gold. With perhaps a diamond or two set into it. And certainly not to have the words ‘Crapper & Son; Twice The Crap Of Any Other Plumbing Merchant’ inscribed upon the inside.
Please try to engage the GEARS of your grey matter and understand me when I say, do not send any more of these ludicrous gifts.
Their daily appearance ON THE doorstep has begun to give my Aunt the affliction of Nerves.
We intend to catch the skywayrail LOCOMOTIVE back to Lichfield on Sunday and Gabriel will be in his ELEMENT to show you the hairs that ARE still JAMMED in the cogs of the wagonette.
Until we meet AGAIN,
This Poem Was Included With The Letter:
When I was FIRST but sweet SIXTEEN
The SECOND glance you gave, I gave it TWO
And said “ hast never TH’EARD the nighting bird
sing so sweet upon the hour Of SIX O’clock, except to shower
love with praise?”
I met thy gaze
and you came FOURTH and said FOUR, FIVE times over that you did love me.
Was I wrong to believe?
Fi! THe notion that you would deceive
IS EVEN now repugnant to my soul.
But time goes on and still our well dips dry.
Now that NINETEEN has passed me by,
shall I live to TWENTYSIX or even TWENTYEIGHT ,my love, without you by side?
Oh why, but for some other’s sake, must we our amour hide?
If this world turned but some other way,
then, perhaps, you would make me your bride.
Poem By Christian Biscotti, Written, at the SIXTH hour, FOUR minutes past.