"I have no knowledge of what this is," I said, puzzled, holding the
paper he had given me.
"Then I will read it to you," he responded; and taking it from my hand,
he repeated the words written there. Even then I doubted him, therefore
I took the paper into the kitchen and bade Parker read it. Then I knew
that he had not deceived me, for Parker repeated the very same words
that he had read, namely--
"The first request made to you, Wilford Heaton, is that you shall
repose every confidence in Doctor Slade, and allow him to restore your
sight. Obey.
"Avel."
The note was very brief and pointed, written, I learnt, like the first
note, with a typewriter, so that no clue might be afforded by the
calligraphy. It was an order from the unknown person whom I had
promised to blindly and faithfully obey. At the time I had given the
mysterious Edna that promise I was in deadly peril of my life. Indeed,
the promise had been extracted from me under threat of death, and now,
in the security of my own home, I felt very disinclined to conform with
the wishes of some person or persons whom I knew not. I saw in what a
very serious position I had placed myself by this rash promise, for I
might even be ordered to commit a crime, or, perhaps, for aught I knew,
have unwittingly allied myself with some secret society.
The one desire which ever possessed me, that of being able to look upon
the unseen woman with the musical voice, who had at one time been my
protectress and my captor, urged me, however, in this instance, to
accede. There was evidently some object in making this attempt to give
me back my sight, and if it really succeeded I alone would be the
gainer.
Understand that I had no faith whatever in the stranger who had thus
come to me with a promise of a miraculous cure; on the other hand, I
felt that he was a mere charlatan and impostor. Nevertheless, I could
not be rendered more blind than I was, and having nothing to lose in the
experiment, any gain would be to my distinct advantage.
Therefore, after further argument, I very reluctantly promised to allow
him to operate upon me on the morrow.
"Good," he answered. "I felt sure that your natural desire for the
restoration of your sight would not allow your minor prejudices to stand
in the way. Shall we say at noon to-morrow."
"Any hour will suit me," I answered briefly, with a rather bad grace.
"Then let it be at noon. I and my assistant will be here by
eleven-thirty."
"I should prefer to come to your surgery," I said, with the idea of
obtaining some knowledge of the stranger's address. If I knew where he
lived I could easily find out his real name.
"That is, unfortunately, impossible," he answered blandly. "I am
staying at an hotel. I do not practise in London."
He seemed to have an ingenious answer always upon the tip of his tongue.
So, after some further conversation, in which he continually foiled any
attempt I made to gain further knowledge of Edna or of himself, he rose
and bade me adieu, promising to return on the morrow with the necessary
instruments.
With a rather unnecessary show of punctuality he arrived next day,
accompanied by a younger, sad-voiced man, and after some elaborate
preparations, the nature of which I guessed from my own medical
knowledge, I sat in my big armchair, and placed myself entirely at his
disposal. From the first moment that he approached me and examined me
prior to producing anaesthesia of the part to be operated upon I knew
that my prejudice had been hastily formed. He was no quack, but
careful, confident, and skilled, with a firm hand evidently used to such
cases.
To fully describe what followed can be of no interest to any save
medical men, therefore suffice it to relate that the operation lasted
about an hour, after which my eyes were carefully bandaged, and my
attendant and his assistant left. Slade called each day at noon, and
carefully dressed my eyes, on each occasion expressing satisfaction at
my progress, but always impressing upon me the absolute necessity for
remaining with the blinds closely drawn, so that no ray of light should
reach me. Darkness did not trouble me, yet Parker found it rather
difficult to serve my meals in the gloom, and was very incredulous
regarding the mysterious doctor's talents. She viewed the whole affair
just as I had once done, and, without mincing words, denounced him as a
quack, who was merely running up a long bill for nothing.
For nearly three weeks I lived with the Venetian blinds of my
sitting-room always down, and with a thick curtain drawn across them,
shutting out all light, as well as a good deal of air, until the summer
heat became stifling. Hour after hour I sat alone, my hands idly in my
lap, ever wondering what the success of this experiment would be.
Should I ever again see, after those grave and distinct pronouncements
of Fry and the rest, who had plainly told me that my sight was for ever
destroyed? I dared not to hope, and only remained inert and thoughtful,
congratulating myself that I had at least obeyed the dictum of my
mysterious and unknown correspondent, under whose influence I had so
foolishly placed myself.
At last, however--it was on a Sunday--Slade came, and as usual raised
the bandages and bathed my eyes in a solution of atropine. Then, having
made a careful examination, he went to the window, drew aside the
curtains, and slightly opened the Venetian blinds.
In an instant I cried aloud for joy.
My sight had been restored. The desire of my life was an accomplished
fact. I could actually see!
Dimly I could distinguish his short, burly form between myself and the
faint light of the half-opened blinds, but even though all was as yet
misty and indistinct, I knew that what had been averred was the actual
truth--the specialists had been mistaken. With care and continued
treatment my sight would strengthen until I became like other men.
"I can see!" I cried excitedly. "I can see you, doctor--and the
light--and the blinds!"
"Then you acknowledge that what I told you was the truth--that I did not
lie to you when I told you that your case was not beyond recovery?"
"Certainly. You told me the truth," I said hastily. "At the time it
seemed too improbable, but now that you have shown me proof, I must ask
your pardon if any words of mine have given you offence."
"You've not offended me in the slightest, my dear sir," he answered
pleasantly. "Persevere with the treatment, and continue for another few
days in darkness, and then I feel confident that a perfectly
satisfactory cure will have been effected. Of course, we must not
expect a clear vision at once, but by degrees your sight will slowly
become stronger."
And with those words he closed the blinds and drew the curtain close, so
that the room was again darkened.
Imagine the thankfulness that filled my heart! It was no illusion. I
had actually seen the narrow rays of sunlight between the half-opened
blind and the dark silhouette of the short, stout, full-bearded man who
was effecting such a marvellous cure.