They consisted of two large folio leaves of paper. One leaf
contained writing which only covered the surface at intervals. The other
presented writing, in red and black ink, which completely filled the
page from top to bottom. In the irritated state of my curiosity, at that
moment, I laid aside the second sheet of paper in despair.
"Have some mercy on me!" I said. "Tell me what I am to expect, before I
attempt to read this."
"Willingly, Mr. Blake! Do you mind my asking you one or two more
questions?"
"Ask me anything you like!"
He looked at me with the sad smile on his lips, and the kindly interest
in his soft brown eyes.
"You have already told me," he said, "that you have never--to your
knowledge--tasted opium in your life."
"To my knowledge," I repeated.
"You will understand directly why I speak with that reservation. Let us
go on. You are not aware of ever having taken opium. At this time,
last year, you were suffering from nervous irritation, and you slept
wretchedly at night. On the night of the birthday, however, there was an
exception to the rule--you slept soundly. Am I right, so far?"
"Quite right!"
"Can you assign any cause for the nervous suffering, and your want of
sleep?"
"I can assign no cause.
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