ed, with his pitilessly steady voice. There was no more to add.

Mr. Neal folded the manuscript, inclosed it in a sheet of paper, and
sealed it with Mr. Armadale's own seal. "The address?" he said, with his
merciless business formality. "To Allan Armadale, junior," he wrote, as
the words were dictated from the bed. "Care of Godfrey Hammick, Esq.,
Offices of Messrs. Hammick and Ridge, Lincoln's Inn Fields, London."
Having written the address, he waited, and considered for a moment. "Is
your executor to open this?" he asked.

"No! he is to give it to my son when my son is of an age to understand
it."

"In that case," pursued Mr. Neal, with all his wits in remorseless
working order, "I will add a dated note to the address, repeating your
own words as you have just spoken them, and explaining the circumstances
under which my handwriting appears on the document." He wrote the note
in the briefest and plainest terms, read it over aloud as he had read
over what went before, signed his name and address at the end, and made
the doctor sign next, as witness of the proceedings, and as medical
evidence of the condition in which Mr. Armadale then lay. This done,
he placed the letter in a second inclosure, sealed it as before, and
directed it to Mr. Hammick, with the superscription of "private" added
to the address. "Do you insist on my posting this?" he asked, rising
with the letter in his hand.

"Give him time to think," said the doctor. "For the child's sake, give
him time to think! A minute may change him."

"I will give him five minutes," answered Mr. Neal, placing his watch on
the table, implacable just to the very last.

They waited, both looking attentively at Mr. Armadale. The signs of
change which had appeared in him already were multiplying fast. The
movement which continued mental agitation had communicated to the
muscles of his face was beginning, under the same dangerous influence,
to spread downward. His once helpless hands lay still no longer; they
struggled pitiably on the bedclothes. At sight of that warning token,
the doctor turned with a gesture of alarm, and beckoned Mr. Neal to
come nearer. "Put the question at once," he said; "if you let the five
minutes pass, you may be too late."

Mr. Neal approached the bed. He, too, noticed the movement of the hands.
"Is that a bad sign?" he asked.

The doctor bent his head gravely. "Put your question at once," he
repeated, "or you may be too late."

Mr. Neal hel