#seance unsolved

It wasn’t entirely well-mannered to look a gift horse in the mouth, but there were times when it seemed to be necessary. Case in point: Andy Sharma’s surprising invitation to the Spring Equinox Ball. It had seemed like an adventure when the ostentatious black carriage appeared at his doorstep earlier that afternoon, but the two-hour ride, his fruitless questioning of the masked footman, and his maddeningly opaque conversations with the mysterious strangers had left him with more questions than answers—so he’d taken it upon himself to do a little exploring of his own. which was what led him up multiple staircases to the library, which was... something else. 

As Andy stood in the middle of the grand library, he gazed up in awe at the endless rows of leather-bound books and other equipment, from a large globe dotted with scrawled inscriptions to an antique revolving reader. He couldn’t help being reminded of university—though it baffled him now, as it sometimes did, that some people’s earnings outstripped that of an educational institution—and he had just stopped in front of a bookcase with particularly colorful spines, a hand on his chin as he pondered their titles, when he saw the shadow at the corner of his eye move. 

[ Early one morning, there is a knock on the door of The Final Rest, and outside is a bright-eyed young man with a pigeon on his shoulder. "G’morning, message for you," he greets as he holds out a tightly rolled-up letter. Written on the front in thin, cramped handwriting are the words "TO RAHAT ZAMAN." Unfolding it reveals a letter that clearly exceeded its target length. It reads as follows—]

ANDY: Dear Rahat,

ANDY: You would never guess what just happened to me. Late last year, several people moved in next door. It was a noisy affair so my landlady popped over for some tea and learned that they’re using their house as an outpost of the very newly formed Pigeon Public Ornithological Society of Telecommunication, also known as Pigeon P.O.S.T.! Which specialises in… pigeon post. In 1889!

ANDY: I was intrigued by their mission of "sharing the time-honored joy of communicating via messenger pigeon once again," and delighted when they invited me to employ their services on a trial basis. However I wasn’t quite sure to whom I would write until yesterday, when they mentioned having an outpost a couple of doors down from your home. Which is why you’re reading a note that was delivered 95 percent by messenger pigeon, 5 percent by messenger person. (The pigeon’s name is Albert.)

ANDY: Have I just rambled? Maybe so. But I do have news—I have finally, properly developed our photographs from the Frost Fair. I look like a large green fool next to you, but since these photos aren’t in colour I simply look like a large fool—which is rather accurate. I DO like the photos though. It nearly looks like you’re laughing in one of them. If you squint.

ANDY: How have you been doing? I hope you have gotten enough rest. And I forget—have you named the mannequin in your window? I realised I call her Marjorie in my head, but you may have given her a different name and I don’t want to be rude. Ha ha!