That busy July, ’91, the period of Mahatma M’s greatest activity, was also marked by the assembling at Avenue-road of one of the periodical conventions of Theosophic Europe. Some conversation occurred between the president and vice-president about the expenses of this convention, and the former, being “H.P.B.’s” legatee, mentioned a happy thought of his, of selling some of the jewels that lady had left behind her, and giving the proceeds as her posthumous contribution to the expenses.
THE “WITHOLD” MISSIVE.
But here, too, Mr. Judge was prepared to “go one better,” as his countrymen say, than the president-legatee. He responded airily that Colonel Olcott need not trouble himself about it, as “Master” had promised him (Judge) that the cash should be forthcoming, and also that he would convey a “message” on the subject to Olcott himself.
The Colonel waited for his message. None came.
The Colonel jogged Mr. Judge’s memory. Mr. Judge said he had no more to tell.
But that very day, on sitting down at his writing-table, and lifting up a piece of blotting-paper, the Colonel found under it a piece of peculiar paper, reading as in the following facsimile (reds and blacks as per former samples):—
