Still working out all the kinks.

Mr. Thomas shows you this picture of his missing sister.

Oct 09,1924

Dear Sir or Madam,

Thank you for your speedy response. Allow me to give you some background on myself and why I am in need of your help so desperately. I am from a small manor outside of London in the town of Hounslow where I resided until recently with my sister Penelope. Our father was an officer and decorated pilot in service of her majesty in the British army during the Great War. Our mother had died during birth of my sister and our father was never quite the same. As Penelope grew she favored my mother, who was quite beautiful, until the point where my father could no longer bear to look upon her without breaking down. He joined a newly formed division that operated those new flying machines and was always first to volunteer for the most dangerous of missions. I suspect he felt that by laying his life on the line he could someday relieve himself from his mental torture. It was early in the spring of 1915 that he was finally delivered from such as his airplane was heavily attacked by hostile forces and went down in a field not far from the German border. Without my fathers income I was forced to join the military myself at the age of 17 so I could provide for Penelope who was growing into a delightful young lady. I remained in the army until the end of the war after which I returned home to finally oversee my sister’s journey to womanhood. Penelope was always a free spirit and was attracted to the fight of womens sufferage. Her only other flaw was that she was enamored with the wrong type of Gentlemen. I always feared for her safety. She finally met an affluent man who didn’t fit her type but she seemed to love him dearly. He was bit older fellow and not at all like her previous suitors. It appeared to me that he had her captured under some spell but I could never quite put my finger on what it was about him that I did not like. However he was a well connected man who helped me establish a business which has grown beyond my wildest dreams. When Penelope came to me and said that she wished to marry him I did not stand in her way. They married and soon after he moved her to the States. She wrote me regularly for the first month but quickly her letters started to sound strange, not at all like herself. After several weeks they stopped arriving completely and the ones I sent her soon were returned undeliverable. I went to his flat in London but everyone acted as though the man never existed. His best man who was a member of parliament has been missing for several days and Scotland Yard is baffled by the disappearance. When I inquired about him they suspected me of being evolved of foul play since they had not made it known to the papers that he was missing. I was able to explain myself; however, I feel that I am being watched by them even now that I am here in America. Since arriving in Arkham I’ve only been able to find the smallest of clues. The house where I sent her my correspondence appears to be the residence of Arnold Wittingham. He doesn’t seem to know anything about my sister or her husband, but he has just returned home from an extended business trip to Chicago. He says that the home is just has he left it and there didn’t seem to have been anyone inside since he left. I am afraid that I don’t know much else. I have obtained a basement room in the Borohouse on Timberside Lane that we shall use a base of operations as we search for my missing sister. If you need anything else, please contact me at the hotel otherwise I shall meet you at the appointed time.

Yours, Sir Malcolm Thomas.