potential than definite, of Miss Trelawny herself.

For several minutes Miss Trelawny held the letter in her hand with her
eyes downcast, thinking. Then she read it carefully again; this time
the varying expressions were intensified, and I thought I could easily
follow them. When she had finished the second reading, she paused
again. Then, though with some reluctance, she handed the letter to the
Detective. He read it eagerly but with unchanging face; read it a
second time, and then handed it back with a bow. She paused a little
again, and then handed it to me. As she did so she raised her eyes to
mine for a single moment appealingly; a swift blush spread over her pale
cheeks and forehead.

With mingled feelings I took it, but, all said, I was glad. She did not
show any perturbation in giving the letter to the Detective--she might
not have shown any to anyone else. But to me. . . I feared to follow the
thought further; but read on, conscious that the eyes of both Miss
Trelawny and the Detective were fixed on me.

"MY DEAR DAUGHTER, I want you to take this letter as an instruction--
absolute and imperative, and admitting of no deviation whatever--in case
anything untoward or unexpected by you or by others should happen to me.
If I should be suddenly and mysteriously stricken down--either by
sickness, accident or attack--you must follow these directions
implicitly. If I am not already in my bedroom when you are made
cognisant of my state, I am to be brought there as quickly as possible.
Even should I be dead, my body is to be brought there. Thenceforth,
until I am either conscious and able to give instructions on my own
account, or buried, I am never to be left alone--not for a single
instant. From nightfall to sunrise at least two persons must remain in