his back turned on Mrs. Armadale, and put his precautionary
question at once in the plainest terms.

"May I ask, sir, before I take the pen in hand, what it is you
wish me to write?"

The angry eyes of the paralyzed man glittered brighter and
brighter. His lips opened and closed again. He made no reply.

Mr. Neal tried another precautionary question, in a new
direction.

"When I have written what you wish me to write," he asked, "what
is to be done with it?"

This time the answer came:

"Seal it up in my presence, and post it to my ex--"

His laboring articulation suddenly stopped and he looked
piteously in the questioner's face for the next word.

"Do you mean your executor?"

"Yes."

"It is a letter, I suppose, that I am to post?" There was no
answer. "May I ask if it is a letter altering your will?"

"Nothing of the sort."