[Solomon awakens Armsby in the middle of the night. He offers him a handful of coins]

The proceeds of my fiddling performances. A few picayunes, but all I have in the world. I promise them to you if you will do me the favor I require. But I beg you not to expose me if you cannot grant the request.

What do you ask?

First, your word, sir.

On my honor.

It is a simple enough request. I ask only that you deposit a letter in the Marksville post office. And that you keep the action an inviolable secret forever. The details of the letter are of no consequence. Even at that, there would be an imposition of much pain and suffering were it known I was the author. A patron is what I require, sir.

Where is the letter now?

It is not yet written. I will have it in a day. Two at most, my skill with composition as poor as it is.

I will do it. And will accept whatever payment is offered.