"Did you bring it?" he asked.
For answer the lawyer drew a manuscript from his pocket. His manner was sober, and unconsciously it foreshadowed the gravity of what was about to transpire. A spirit of expectancy animated everybody present; a dawning realization that at last the crisis was at hand, that the veil hiding the mystery was about to be rent. So far as this is concerned, they were soon to learn that the rending of one veil was to disclose but a single one of many complexities and yet another concealing veil beyond; that while the enveloping mists were surely dissipating, they passed but slowly, revealing only a little at a time.
"While we are waiting for the others, Mr. Nettleton will read this aloud," said the Captain.
"What is it?" from the Doctor.
"I suppose you might call it the 'Ante-Mortem Statement of William Slade, Deceased,'" Mr. Nettleton replied; and Converse interjected, "'Slade's Blessing.'"
"Good," the lawyer rejoined. "That would not be an inept title. It came to me this morning through the mail, and evidently was only lately written."
Again Converse spoke. "How is Miss Joyce? Could she be present?" He proceeded no further, when he noticed the Doctor shaking his head in a decided negative.
"She is rapidly regaining her strength," the latter added; "but of everything that happened up to the time of returning consciousness, she remembers nothing."
"Dear me!" ejaculated the Captain; "that is unfortunate. Is this blank likely to be permanent?"
"God knows that I hope not. It is too early to hazard a positive opinion."