One of the delicious things about a secret is the fact that it is a secret. And one of the lovely, powerful things about a puzzle is the triumph you feel once it is solved: first the befuddlement, then the slow working of the brain, then the hop from clue to clue, and finally to the cry of Eureka! (Silent, unless you want to seem insane.)

I am not yet at Eureka! with the literary mystery that arrived in my mailbox yesterday. But I have hopped to a few more clues, and I thought that, given your apparent enchantment with all this (judging by comments, tweets and e-mails), I would share them with you.

Many of you suggested roads to follow. Some led nowhere; others led to interesting places. Some of you (cynics! realists!) thought the whole thing was a marketing ploy. I think that is not true. For one thing, the quotes included in the various clues come from different books, all from Atlanta authors---including Margaret Mitchell's "Gone With the Wind," which surely needs no marketing push.

Others of you thought that the fact that my clue was no. 56 was significant. You were led astray by the red herring of a current Facebook meme that asks you to turn to page 56 in whatever book you're reading and post a sentence online. I'm certain this is a red herring; I'm certain that the fact that my clue was no. 56 is purely coincidental---I've seen postings all over the Web about people who got clues with other numbers (including a really good blog from the Chicago Reader yesterday; they received Clue No. 65).

The picture you see above is from one of two Facebook sites of whoever it is who is behind all of this. I have not solved the mystery of why and how and what it all adds up to, but it is clear that the significant number here is 10, not 56. The cranes and tornadoes mentioned in the haiku are 10 storeys tall. The amount of money sent was $10. Are there ten stories somewhere?

The Facebook page calls this an art project/social experiment. A lengthy note doles out more clues, five at a time, but in random order. "I enjoy the fragments, remembering the drops and mailings," the note reads. "I kept a diary where I wrote thoughts and feelings as each envelope went on its way."

Is it better to get to the bottom of all this, or to just bask in its loveliness? Someone who wants to spread words and mystery and art throughout the world--sprinked with a small amount of money, perhaps to get our attention--must be a remarkable person. As one blogger from Atlanta said, this made them fall in love with Atlanta all over again. Me, it makes me fall in love with art all over again.

Perhaps the best explanation to this whole mystery comes from this Facebook entry, dated June 19: "Churchgoers tithe for what they believe in. What if somebody did the same for an art project?"