I remained again in doubt. He noticed my hesitation, and urged me to submit. But my natural caution asserted itself, and I felt disinclined to place myself in the hands of one of whose _bona fides_ I knew absolutely nothing. As politely as I could I told him this, but he merely replied-- "I have been sent by the lady whom we both know as Edna. Have you no confidence in her desire to assist you?" "Certainly I have." "She has already explained to me that you have promised to carry out her wishes. It is at her urgent request that I have come to you with the object of giving you back your sight." "She wishes me to submit to the experiment?" "Pardon me. It is no experiment," he said. "She desires you to submit yourself to my treatment. If you do, I have entire confidence that in a week or so you will see almost as well as I do." I hesitated. This stranger offered me the one great desire of my life-- the desire of every person who is afflicted with blindness--in return for a few moment's pain. Edna had sent him, prefaced by the mysterious letter signed "Avel." It was her desire that I should regain my sight; it was my desire to discover her and look upon her face. "If I find your name in the _Medical Register_ I will undergo the operation," I said at last. "To search will be in vain," he responded, in the same even tone. "Then your name is assumed?" "My practice is not a large one, and I have no need to be registered," he said evasively. His words again convinced me that he was a mere quack. I had cornered him, for he was palpably confused. "As I have already told you," I said, with some warmth, "your attempts at persuasion are utterly useless. I refuse to allow my eyes to be tampered with by one who is not a medical man." He laughed, rather superciliously I thought. "You prefer your present affliction?" "Yes," I snapped. "Then, now that you force me to the last extremity," he said firmly, "I have this to present to you." And next moment I felt within my hand a paper neither the nature of which, nor the writing thereon, could I distinguish; yet from his voice I knew instinctively that this stranger, whoever he was, held triumph over me. CHAPTER NINE. FROM THE UNKNOWN. "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."