"Well, well," Converse repeated, thoughtfully; "yet, perhaps—However, Mr. Nettleton, go on; read."
"But, Mr. Converse," Charlotte interposed, "this is all so incomprehensible; we are tossed about in such a turmoil of bewilderment that my mind is incapable of understanding anything, and I am sure that Mobley is no better off. When did you return? Where have you been so long? Have some mercy upon us, for I feel as though I were going mad."
"Dear lady," he returned, "try to have a little patience; you shall know all, quickly."
"But, about Mobley—what did that man mean by accusing him? by saying that Howard had witnessed the—the murder? My God! when will this end?"
The Captain spoke soothingly.
"Let this manuscript be read, and everything else will fall in naturally. I have already said that the story cannot be told in a word. It is a strange tale, and we must take one thing at a time if we hope ever to comprehend it. Now go ahead, Mr. Nettleton."
The lawyer appeared to consider.
"I question the advisability of reading this," he said at length; "but Mr. Converse thinks otherwise. I wish to say first, however, that many things in this manuscript will prove to be exceedingly painful to you, Mobley, and to you, Charlotte and Clay. So much so, that it will be impossible for you to hear them unmoved. I have read it, and I know. It is contemptible. It brings grave charges against your two fathers; yet, if you wish ever to understand the mystery that so entangles you, a perusal of this will be necessary. Each one of you could take it alone and go through with it as you may; but to read it here aloud will be a terrible ordeal. What are your wishes?"
"Bob," the Doctor returned, "we have all borne so much that the fact of this being an additional ordeal weighs but little against the assurance that we are to see this web of mystery and suspicion untangled. I think the three of us most concerned will agree to that?" He looked to Charlotte and Clay, who nodded acquiescence. Converse also nodded his head vigorously, adding: "My idea, exactly. You will hear the dead vilified and yourselves damned roundly; but, dear me, what of that?" he asked, cheerfully. "Slade was as cracked as a brick sidewalk, and he couldn't do anything else."
Mr. Nettleton smiled. "It wouldn't do to go too far into that, Converse; remember the will."