The Strange Affair of Spring Heeled Jack - Mark Hodder [134]
You remember, my wife, that I said the mark upon your breast was a sign to me of God's forgiveness for my treachery and that in you he was rewarding me for the work I had done in hospital to restore my wits and good judgment?
I pray now that he looks mercifully upon my failure and I ask him that the mark, which so resembles a rainbow in its shape, and which lays also upon our little son's breast, should adorn even y of my descendants forevermore as a sign that the great wrong I committed shall call His vengeance upon no Oxford but myself, for I it was who pulled the triggers and no other. With my death, which as I say will soon be upon me, the affair shall end and the evil attached to my name shall be wiped away.
You have ever been the finest thing in my life.
Be happy and remember only our earliest days.
Your loving husband
Edward Oxford
P.S. Remember me to your grandparents who were so kind to me when I was a lad and who, being among the first f I ever had, I recall with immense fondness.
"It's a scan of the letter he sent to his wife after she left him and returned to her parents in England. I have the original at home. It has been passed down from generation to generation," revealed Oxford.
"Fascinating! A letter from the future!" exclaimed Beresford.
"For me, from the distant past," countered the other man. "And now, a letter that will never be written."
"Yet here it is in my hand," muttered Beresford, wonderingly. "It raises some questions, my friend. For a start, who was the wife?"
"I don't know. There's no record of her name. All I know is that she was the daughter of a family he was acquainted with in the days before he committed his crime. You'll note his postscript."
"Yes. So it was a crime of treason, was it? It must have been bad, else you wouldn't have travelled through time to prevent it."
"It was. It has been an embarrassment to my family for generations."
"But you're not going to tell me what it was-or should I say, will be?"
"No, I'd rather not."
"What of this rainbow he mentions?"
"A small birthmark above the heart, bluish and yellow in colour and shaped like an arc. It has appeared sporadically on Oxfords throughout the generations. I don't have it but my mother does."
"A mark of God's forgiveness, or so the poor fellow thought," murmured Beresford. "What ultimately happened to him in your history?"
"He died a pauper in 1900."
"So if you find him at the present time and dissuade him from ever contemplating the crime, you might save him from his miserable fate-but surely this presents a problem: for if he doesn't commit the crime then he won't be sent to Australia, won't meet the girl, and your ancestors won't be born."
Oxford nodded and wearily ran his fingers through his hair.
"I thought of that before I began this venture," he admitted. "But consider this: the Original was acquainted with the girl's grandparents before he was incarcerated. There is, therefore, every chance that if he remains at liberty he will meet and woo her before she emigrates, and that she will marry him."
Beresford looked astonished. "Good gracious, Edward-do you mean to tell me that you embarked on this scheme with only that vague possibility to protect your future existence? Are you out of your mind, man?"
"Shut the hell up!" snarled the time traveller, his eyes suddenly afire. "It's a matter of probability, and probability theory is a science of the future, so you are hardly qualified to comment, are you? You damned primitive ape!"
Beresford shot to his feet and glared at his guest. "How dare you, sir! I'll remind you that this is my home," he snapped, "and I'll not be spoken to in that manner! I'm going to tend to the horses. I suggest you