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certain he would be able to come upon the “stone” during his visit. He might have to go again at some other time. For the trip, he indicated, he would need ten brand new one hundred dollar bills, five of which, he said, he would have to place in a hidden cave at the mountain where the “stone” was to be found. None of us doubted Aber’s intentions. What a wonderful thing such a discovery would be for all mankind, we thought. (pp. 400-1)

“You would like to know who I am in Jehovah’s house,” Aber replied melodramatically to Harold one evening. “There is a lot you would like to know about me. Well, there are things Jehovah never tells anyone. As long as you live you’ll never find out who I am.” His tones, again melodiously flowing from his well-shaped mouth, had an almost hypnotic charm about them and Dorothy, Harold and I stood listening almost motionless. “You’ll never find out who I am or where I come from.” He acted as though in a trance. “Man will never know—but I have come out of the ground, the grave. In Jehovah’s house there are things man will never know. I have come out of the grave to you.” “Oh, God, Oh God!” Dorothy cried out, bursting into sobs. It was a fearful scene. (p. 450)

By April first we saw the first copies of the finished book—a beautiful volume bound in blue and stamped in gold with the impression of the Sanhedrin Cave. I was terribly proud and happy. My mission—the dream of more than a decade—was done. (p. 452)

On April sixth, 1943.... The radio was tuned in to Harold’s broadcast. Millions of people throughout America were listening too. Most of them never expected to hear what they did. They were in for a shock. At the appointed time Boake Carter began to blow the trumpet. It was a blast that shook the nation.... He made it clear there had been three great writings that had influenced mankind. The first was the Hebrew Bible, the second was the New Testament and the third was Mein Kampf. The fourth book, which would change the face of nations and destroy idols, had come upon this world today under the strange title of “The Bible in the Hands of Its Creators.”.... It was a gigantic work, the golden voice from the radio continued, the manuscript of which was completed nine years ago. It previewed every single event that had happened in the world since that time. In its pages you would find the pattern of the world of tomorrow as the Creator intended to establish it. Read it and you would either throw it out or find your life being reshaped. It had his. The Bible in the Hands of Its Creators was nothing short of life itself. It was the greatest news story in two thousand years.

Thus, Boake Carter gloriously blew the bugle of truth to the world. It could not have had a better trumpeter!

As I sat and listened the tears came to my eyes. I was the happiest man in the world.

The cosmic message born in the dark and obscure Jerusalem cave of the Seventy Sanhedrin in the month of December, 1927 -- Salvation itself—was now the world’s to accept or reject. (pp. 453-4)

During the first few days after publication, Aber visited the office almost daily, autographing Moses Guibbory’s name to all copies of the limited, gilt-edged edition which had been promised the advance subscribers. Some of them had waited five to seven years for the book and had given up hope of ever seeing the volume. Now at last they were to receive it.

But the autographing went on slowly; Aber, for some reason, signed but a limited number each visit. For the first time we had to goad him to action. I found it

difficult to understand.

Finally, however, the autographing was finished and the volumes were mailed to all the original subscribers. Moses Guibbory’s signature, as penned by Aber, was crude and differed, moreover, in many respects from the author’s original. But, having accepted Aber in the exalted Elijah-position, we thought he had the right to autograph the work in the absence of our Cave host who, we never doubted any more, was working through Aber. (pp. 455-6)

On April 10, Harold strode into the Society offices all wrought