The Moonstone Page 49

  CHAPTER X

  How the interval of suspense in which I was now condemned mighthave affected other men in my position, I cannot pretend to say. Theinfluence of the two hours' probation upon my temperament was simplythis. I felt physically incapable of remaining still in any one place,and morally incapable of speaking to any one human being, until I hadfirst heard all that Ezra Jennings had to say to me.

  In this frame of mind, I not only abandoned my contemplated visit toMrs. Ablewhite--I even shrank from encountering Gabriel Betteredgehimself.

  Returning to Frizinghall, I left a note for Betteredge, telling him thatI had been unexpectedly called away for a few hours, but that he mightcertainly expect me to return towards three o'clock in the afternoon. Irequested him, in the interval, to order his dinner at the usual hour,and to amuse himself as he pleased. He had, as I well knew, hosts offriends in Frizinghall; and he would be at no loss how to fill up histime until I returned to the hotel.

  This done, I made the best of my way out of the town again, and roamedthe lonely moorland country which surrounds Frizinghall, until my watchtold me that it was time, at last, to return to Mr. Candy's house.

  I found Ezra Jennings ready and waiting for me.

  He was sitting alone in a bare little room, which communicated by aglazed door with a surgery. Hideous coloured diagrams of the ravages ofhideous diseases decorated the barren buff-coloured walls. A book-casefilled with dingy medical works, and ornamented at the top with a skull,in place of the customary bust; a large deal table copiously splashedwith ink; wooden chairs of the sort that are seen in kitchens andcottages; a threadbare drugget in the middle of the floor; a sink ofwater, with a basin and waste-pipe roughly let into the wall, horriblysuggestive of its connection with surgical operations--comprised theentire furniture of the room. The bees were humming among a few flowersplaced in pots outside the window; the birds were singing in thegarden, and the faint intermittent jingle of a tuneless piano in someneighbouring house forced itself now and again on the ear. In anyother place, these everyday sounds might have spoken pleasantly of theeveryday world outside. Here, they came in as intruders on a silencewhich nothing but human suffering had the privilege to disturb. I lookedat the mahogany instrument case, and at the huge roll of lint, occupyingplaces of their own on the book-shelves, and shuddered inwardly as Ithought of the sounds, familiar and appropriate to the everyday use ofEzra Jennings' room.

  "I make no apology, Mr. Blake, for the place in which I am receivingyou," he said. "It is the only room in the house, at this hour of theday, in which we can feel quite sure of being left undisturbed. Hereare my papers ready for you; and here are two books to which we may haveoccasion to refer, before we have done. Bring your chair to the table,and we shall be able to consult them together."

  I drew up to the table; and Ezra Jennings handed me his manuscriptnotes. They consisted of two large folio leaves of paper. One leafcontained writing which only covered the surface at intervals. The otherpresented writing, in red and black ink, which completely filled thepage from top to bottom. In the irritated state of my curiosity, at thatmoment, 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 Iattempt to read this."

  "Willingly, Mr. Blake! Do you mind my asking you one or two morequestions?"

  "Ask me anything you like!"

  He looked at me with the sad smile on his lips, and the kindly interestin his soft brown eyes.

  "You have already told me," he said, "that you have never--to yourknowledge--tasted opium in your life."

  "To my knowledge," I repeated.

  "You will understand directly why I speak with that reservation. Let usgo on. You are not aware of ever having taken opium. At this time,last year, you were suffering from nervous irritation, and you sleptwretchedly at night. On the night of the birthday, however, there was anexception 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 ofsleep?"

  "I can assign no cause. Old Betteredge made a guess at the cause, Iremember. But that is hardly worth mentioning."

  "Pardon me. Anything is worth mentioning in such a case as this.Betteredge attributed your sleeplessness to something. To what?"

  "To my leaving off smoking."

  "Had you been an habitual smoker?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you leave off the habit suddenly?"

  "Yes."

  "Betteredge was perfectly right, Mr. Blake. When smoking is a habita man must have no common constitution who can leave it off suddenlywithout some temporary damage to his nervous system. Your sleeplessnights are accounted for, to my mind. My next question refers to Mr.Candy. Do you remember having entered into anything like a disputewith him--at the birthday dinner, or afterwards--on the subject of hisprofession?"

  The question instantly awakened one of my dormant remembrances inconnection with the birthday festival. The foolish wrangle which tookplace, on that occasion, between Mr. Candy and myself, will be founddescribed at much greater length than it deserves in the tenthchapter of Betteredge's Narrative. The details there presented of thedispute--so little had I thought of it afterwards--entirely failed torecur to my memory. All that I could now recall, and all that I couldtell Ezra Jennings was, that I had attacked the art of medicine at thedinner-table with sufficient rashness and sufficient pertinacity to puteven Mr. Candy out of temper for the moment. I also remembered that LadyVerinder had interfered to stop the dispute, and that the little doctorand I had "made it up again," as the children say, and had become asgood friends as ever, before we shook hands that night.

  "There is one thing more," said Ezra Jennings, "which it is veryimportant I should know. Had you any reason for feeling any specialanxiety about the Diamond, at this time last year?"

  "I had the strongest reasons for feeling anxiety about the Diamond.I knew it to be the object of a conspiracy; and I was warned to takemeasures for Miss Verinder's protection, as the possessor of the stone."

  "Was the safety of the Diamond the subject of conversation between youand any other person, immediately before you retired to rest on thebirthday night?"

  "It was the subject of a conversation between Lady Verinder and herdaughter----"

  "Which took place in your hearing?"

  "Yes."

  Ezra Jennings took up his notes from the table, and placed them in myhands.

  "Mr. Blake," he said, "if you read those notes now, by the light whichmy questions and your answers have thrown on them, you will make twoastounding discoveries concerning yourself. You will find--First, thatyou entered Miss Verinder's sitting-room and took the Diamond, in astate of trance, produced by opium. Secondly, that the opium wasgiven to you by Mr. Candy--without your own knowledge--as a practicalrefutation of the opinions which you had expressed to him at thebirthday dinner."

  I sat with the papers in my hand completely stupefied.

  "Try and forgive poor Mr. Candy," said the assistant gently. "He hasdone dreadful mischief, I own; but he has done it innocently. If youwill look at the notes, you will see that--but for his illness--he wouldhave returned to Lady Verinder's the morning after the party, and wouldhave acknowledged the trick that he had played you. Miss Verinder wouldhave heard of it, and Miss Verinder would have questioned him--and thetruth which has laid hidden for a year would have been discovered in aday."

  I began to regain my self-possession. "Mr. Candy is beyond the reach ofmy resentment," I said angrily. "But the trick that he played me is notthe less an act of treachery, for all that. I may forgive, but I shallnot forget it."

  "Every medical man commits that act of treachery, Mr. Blake, in thecourse of his practice. The ignorant distrust of opium (in England) isby no means confined to the lower and less cultivated classes. Everydoctor in large practice finds himself, every now and then, obligedto deceive his patients, as Mr. Candy deceived you. I don't defend
thefolly of playing you a trick under the circumstances. I only plead withyou for a more accurate and more merciful construction of motives."

  "How was it done?" I asked. "Who gave me the laudanum, without myknowing it myself?"

  "I am not able to tell you. Nothing relating to that part of the matterdropped from Mr. Candy's lips, all through his illness. Perhaps your ownmemory may point to the person to be suspected."

  "No."

  "It is useless, in that case, to pursue the inquiry. The laudanum wassecretly given to you in some way. Let us leave it there, and go onto matters of more immediate importance. Read my notes, if you can.Familiarise your mind with what has happened in the past. I havesomething very bold and very startling to propose to you, which relatesto the future."

  Those last words roused me.

  I looked at the papers, in the order in which Ezra Jennings had placedthem in my hands. The paper which contained the smaller quantity ofwriting was the uppermost of the two. On this, the disconnected words,and fragments of sentences, which had dropped from Mr. Candy in hisdelirium, appeared as follows:

  "... Mr. Franklin Blake ... and agreeable ... down a peg ... medicine... confesses ... sleep at night ... tell him ... out of order ...medicine ... he tells me ... and groping in the dark mean one and thesame thing ... all the company at the dinner-table ... I say ... gropingafter sleep ... nothing but medicine ... he says ... leading the blind... know what it means ... witty ... a night's rest in spite ofhis teeth ... wants sleep ... Lady Verinder's medicine chest ...five-and-twenty minims ... without his knowing it ... to-morrow morning... Well, Mr. Blake ... medicine to-day ... never ... without it ...out, Mr. Candy ... excellent ... without it ... down on him ... truth... something besides ... excellent ... dose of laudanum, sir ... bed... what ... medicine now."

  There, the first of the two sheets of paper came to an end. I handed itback to Ezra Jennings.

  "That is what you heard at his bedside?" I said.

  "Literally and exactly what I heard," he answered--"except that therepetitions are not transferred here from my short-hand notes. Hereiterated certain words and phrases a dozen times over, fifty timesover, just as he attached more or less importance to the idea which theyrepresented. The repetitions, in this sense, were of some assistanceto me in putting together those fragments. Don't suppose," he added,pointing to the second sheet of paper, "that I claim to have reproducedthe expressions which Mr. Candy himself would have used if he had beencapable of speaking connectedly. I only say that I have penetratedthrough the obstacle of the disconnected expression, to the thoughtwhich was underlying it connectedly all the time. Judge for yourself."

  I turned to the second sheet of paper, which I now knew to be the key tothe first.

  Once more, Mr. Candy's wanderings appeared, copied in black ink; theintervals between the phrases being filled up by Ezra Jennings inred ink. I reproduce the result here, in one plain form; the originallanguage and the interpretation of it coming close enough together inthese pages to be easily compared and verified.

  "... Mr. Franklin Blake is clever and agreeable, but he wants takingdown a peg when he talks of medicine. He confesses that he has beensuffering from want of sleep at night. I tell him that his nerves areout of order, and that he ought to take medicine. He tells me thattaking medicine and groping in the dark mean one and the same thing.This before all the company at the dinner-table. I say to him, you aregroping after sleep, and nothing but medicine can help you to find it.He says to me, I have heard of the blind leading the blind, and now Iknow what it means. Witty--but I can give him a night's rest in spite ofhis teeth. He really wants sleep; and Lady Verinder's medicine chest isat my disposal. Give him five-and-twenty minims of laudanum to-night,without his knowing it; and then call to-morrow morning. 'Well, Mr.Blake, will you try a little medicine to-day? You will never sleepwithout it.'--'There you are out, Mr. Candy: I have had an excellentnight's rest without it.' Then, come down on him with the truth! 'Youhave had something besides an excellent night's rest; you had a doseof laudanum, sir, before you went to bed. What do you say to the art ofmedicine, now?'"

  Admiration of the ingenuity which had woven this smooth and finishedtexture out of the ravelled skein was naturally the first impressionthat I felt, on handing the manuscript back to Ezra Jennings. Hemodestly interrupted the first few words in which my sense of surpriseexpressed itself, by asking me if the conclusion which he had drawn fromhis notes was also the conclusion at which my own mind had arrived.

  "Do you believe as I believe," he said, "that you were acting under theinfluence of the laudanum in doing all that you did, on the night ofMiss Verinder's birthday, in Lady Verinder's house?"

  "I am too ignorant of the influence of laudanum to have an opinion ofmy own," I answered. "I can only follow your opinion, and feel convincedthat you are right."

  "Very well. The next question is this. You are convinced; and I amconvinced--how are we to carry our conviction to the minds of otherpeople?"

  I pointed to the two manuscripts, lying on the table between us. EzraJennings shook his head.

  "Useless, Mr. Blake! Quite useless, as they stand now for threeunanswerable reasons. In the first place, those notes have been takenunder circumstances entirely out of the experience of the mass ofmankind. Against them, to begin with! In the second place, those notesrepresent a medical and metaphysical theory. Against them, once more! Inthe third place, those notes are of my making; there is nothing but myassertion to the contrary, to guarantee that they are not fabrications.Remember what I told you on the moor--and ask yourself what my assertionis worth. No! my notes have but one value, looking to the verdict of theworld outside. Your innocence is to be vindicated; and they show how itcan be done. We must put our conviction to the proof--and You are theman to prove it!"

  "How?" I asked.

  He leaned eagerly nearer to me across the table that divided us.

  "Are you willing to try a bold experiment?"

  "I will do anything to clear myself of the suspicion that rests on menow."

  "Will you submit to some personal inconvenience for a time?"

  "To any inconvenience, no matter what it may be."

  "Will you be guided implicitly by my advice? It may expose you to theridicule of fools; it may subject you to the remonstrances of friendswhose opinions you are bound to respect."

  "Tell me what to do!" I broke out impatiently. "And, come what may, I'lldo it."

  "You shall do this, Mr. Blake," he answered. "You shall steal theDiamond, unconsciously, for the second time, in the presence ofwitnesses whose testimony is beyond dispute."

  I started to my feet. I tried to speak. I could only look at him.

  "I believe it CAN be done," he went on. "And it shall be done--if youwill only help me. Try to compose yourself--sit down, and hear what Ihave to say to you. You have resumed the habit of smoking; I have seenthat for myself. How long have you resumed it."

  "For nearly a year."

  "Do you smoke more or less than you did?"

  "More."

  "Will you give up the habit again? Suddenly, mind!--as you gave it upbefore."

  I began dimly to see his drift. "I will give it up, from this moment," Ianswered.

  "If the same consequences follow, which followed last June," said EzraJennings--"if you suffer once more as you suffered then, from sleeplessnights, we shall have gained our first step. We shall have put youback again into something assimilating to your nervous condition on thebirthday night. If we can next revive, or nearly revive, the domesticcircumstances which surrounded you; and if we can occupy your mindagain with the various questions concerning the Diamond which formerlyagitated it, we shall have replaced you, as nearly as possible in thesame position, physically and morally, in which the opium found you lastyear. In that case we may fairly hope that a repetition of the dosewill lead, in a greater or lesser degree, to a repetition of the result.There is my proposal, expressed in a few hasty words. You shall now seewhat reasons I have to justif
y me in making it."

  He turned to one of the books at his side, and opened it at a placemarked by a small slip of paper.

  "Don't suppose that I am going to weary you with a lecture onphysiology," he said. "I think myself bound to prove, in justice to bothof us, that I am not asking you to try this experiment in deferenceto any theory of my own devising. Admitted principles, and recognisedauthorities, justify me in the view that I take. Give me five minutes ofyour attention; and I will undertake to show you that Science sanctionsmy proposal, fanciful as it may seem. Here, in the first place, is thephysiological principle on which I am acting, stated by no less a personthan Dr. Carpenter. Read it for yourself."

  He handed me the slip of paper which had marked the place in the book.It contained a few lines of writing, as follows:--

  "There seems much ground for the belief, that every sensory impressionwhich has once been recognised by the perceptive consciousness, isregistered (so to speak) in the brain, and may be reproduced at somesubsequent time, although there may be no consciousness of its existencein the mind during the whole intermediate period."

  "Is that plain, so far?" asked Ezra Jennings.

  "Perfectly plain."

  He pushed the open book across the table to me, and pointed to apassage, marked by pencil lines.

  "Now," he said, "read that account of a case, which has--as I believe--adirect bearing on your own position, and on the experiment which I amtempting you to try. Observe, Mr. Blake, before you begin, that I am nowreferring you to one of the greatest of English physiologists. The bookin your hand is Doctor Elliotson's HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY; and the case whichthe doctor cites rests on the well-known authority of Mr. Combe."

  The passage pointed out to me was expressed in these terms:--

  "Dr. Abel informed me," says Mr. Combe, "of an Irish porter to awarehouse, who forgot, when sober, what he had done when drunk; but,being drunk, again recollected the transactions of his former state ofintoxication. On one occasion, being drunk, he had lost a parcel of somevalue, and in his sober moments could give no account of it. Next timehe was intoxicated, he recollected that he had left the parcel at acertain house, and there being no address on it, it had remained theresafely, and was got on his calling for it."

  "Plain again?" asked Ezra Jennings.

  "As plain as need be."

  He put back the slip of paper in its place, and closed the book.

  "Are you satisfied that I have not spoken without good authority tosupport me?" he asked. "If not, I have only to go to those bookshelves,and you have only to read the passages which I can point out to you."

  "I am quite satisfied," I said, "without reading a word more."

  "In that case, we may return to your own personal interest in thismatter. I am bound to tell you that there is something to be saidagainst the experiment as well as for it. If we could, this year,exactly reproduce, in your case, the conditions as they existed lastyear, it is physiologically certain that we should arrive at exactly thesame result. But this--there is no denying it--is simply impossible. Wecan only hope to approximate to the conditions; and if we don't succeedin getting you nearly enough back to what you were, this venture of ourswill fail. If we do succeed--and I am myself hopeful of success--youmay at least so far repeat your proceedings on the birthday night, as tosatisfy any reasonable person that you are guiltless, morally speaking,of the theft of the Diamond. I believe, Mr. Blake, I have now statedthe question, on both sides of it, as fairly as I can, within the limitsthat I have imposed on myself. If there is anything that I have not madeclear to you, tell me what it is--and if I can enlighten you, I will."

  "All that you have explained to me," I said, "I understand perfectly.But I own I am puzzled on one point, which you have not made clear to meyet."

  "What is the point?"

  "I don't understand the effect of the laudanum on me. I don't understandmy walking down-stairs, and along corridors, and my opening and shuttingthe drawers of a cabinet, and my going back again to my own room. Allthese are active proceedings. I thought the influence of opium was firstto stupefy you, and then to send you to sleep."

  "The common error about opium, Mr. Blake! I am, at this moment, exertingmy intelligence (such as it is) in your service, under the influenceof a dose of laudanum, some ten times larger than the dose Mr. Candyadministered to you. But don't trust to my authority--even on a questionwhich comes within my own personal experience. I anticipated theobjection you have just made: and I have again provided myself withindependent testimony which will carry its due weight with it in yourown mind, and in the minds of your friends."

  He handed me the second of the two books which he had by him on thetable.

  "There," he said, "are the far-famed CONFESSIONS OF AN ENGLISH OPIUMEATER! Take the book away with you, and read it. At the passage whichI have marked, you will find that when De Quincey had committed what hecalls 'a debauch of opium,' he either went to the gallery at the Operato enjoy the music, or he wandered about the London markets on Saturdaynight, and interested himself in observing all the little shifts andbargainings of the poor in providing their Sunday's dinner. So much forthe capacity of a man to occupy himself actively, and to move about fromplace to place under the influence of opium."

  "I am answered so far," I said; "but I am not answered yet as to theeffect produced by the opium on myself."

  "I will try to answer you in a few words," said Ezra Jennings."The action of opium is comprised, in the majority of cases, in twoinfluences--a stimulating influence first, and a sedative influenceafterwards. Under the stimulating influence, the latest and most vividimpressions left on your mind--namely, the impressions relating to theDiamond--would be likely, in your morbidly sensitive nervous condition,to become intensified in your brain, and would subordinate to themselvesyour judgment and your will exactly as an ordinary dream subordinates toitself your judgment and your will. Little by little, under this action,any apprehensions about the safety of the Diamond which you might havefelt during the day would be liable to develop themselves from thestate of doubt to the state of certainty--would impel you into practicalaction to preserve the jewel--would direct your steps, with that motivein view, into the room which you entered--and would guide your hand tothe drawers of the cabinet, until you had found the drawer which heldthe stone. In the spiritualised intoxication of opium, you would doall that. Later, as the sedative action began to gain on the stimulantaction, you would slowly become inert and stupefied. Later still youwould fall into a deep sleep. When the morning came, and the effect ofthe opium had been all slept off, you would wake as absolutely ignorantof what you had done in the night as if you had been living at theAntipodes. Have I made it tolerably clear to you so far?"

  "You have made it so clear," I said, "that I want you to go farther.You have shown me how I entered the room, and how I came to take theDiamond. But Miss Verinder saw me leave the room again, with the jewelin my hand. Can you trace my proceedings from that moment? Can you guesswhat I did next?"

  "That is the very point I was coming to," he rejoined. "It is a questionwith me whether the experiment which I propose as a means of vindicatingyour innocence, may not also be made a means of recovering the lostDiamond as well. When you left Miss Verinder's sitting-room, withthe jewel in your hand, you went back in all probability to your ownroom----"

  "Yes? and what then?"

  "It is possible, Mr. Blake--I dare not say more--that your idea ofpreserving the Diamond led, by a natural sequence, to the idea of hidingthe Diamond, and that the place in which you hid it was somewhere inyour bedroom. In that event, the case of the Irish porter may be yourcase. You may remember, under the influence of the second dose ofopium, the place in which you hid the Diamond under the influence of thefirst."

  It was my turn, now, to enlighten Ezra Jennings. I stopped him, beforehe could say any more.

  "You are speculating," I said, "on a result which cannot possibly takeplace. The Diamond is, at this moment, in London."

  He st
arted, and looked at me in great surprise.

  "In London?" he repeated. "How did it get to London from Lady Verinder'shouse?"

  "Nobody knows."

  "You removed it with your own hand from Miss Verinder's room. How was ittaken out of your keeping?"

  "I have no idea how it was taken out of my keeping."

  "Did you see it, when you woke in the morning?"

  "No."

  "Has Miss Verinder recovered possession of it?"

  "No."

  "Mr. Blake! there seems to be something here which wants clearing up.May I ask how you know that the Diamond is, at this moment, in London?"

  I had put precisely the same question to Mr. Bruff when I made my firstinquiries about the Moonstone, on my return to England. In answeringEzra Jennings, I accordingly repeated what I had myself heard from thelawyer's own lips--and what is already familiar to the readers of thesepages.

  He showed plainly that he was not satisfied with my reply.

  "With all deference to you," he said, "and with all deference to yourlegal adviser, I maintain the opinion which I expressed just now. Itrests, I am well aware, on a mere assumption. Pardon me for remindingyou, that your opinion also rests on a mere assumption as well."

  The view he took of the matter was entirely new to me. I waitedanxiously to hear how he would defend it.

  "I assume," pursued Ezra Jennings, "that the influence of theopium--after impelling you to possess yourself of the Diamond, with thepurpose of securing its safety--might also impel you, acting under thesame influence and the same motive, to hide it somewhere in your ownroom. YOU assume that the Hindoo conspirators could by no possibilitycommit a mistake. The Indians went to Mr. Luker's house after theDiamond--and, therefore, in Mr. Luker's possession the Diamond must be!Have you any evidence to prove that the Moonstone was taken to Londonat all? You can't even guess how, or by whom, it was removed from LadyVerinder's house! Have you any evidence that the jewel was pledged toMr. Luker? He declares that he never heard of the Moonstone; and hisbankers' receipt acknowledges nothing but the deposit of a valuable ofgreat price. The Indians assume that Mr. Luker is lying--and you assumeagain that the Indians are right. All I say, in differing with you,is--that my view is possible. What more, Mr. Blake, either logically, orlegally, can be said for yours?"

  It was put strongly; but there was no denying that it was put truly aswell.

  "I confess you stagger me," I replied. "Do you object to my writing toMr. Bruff, and telling him what you have said?"

  "On the contrary, I shall be glad if you will write to Mr. Bruff. If weconsult his experience, we may see the matter under a new light. For thepresent, let us return to our experiment with the opium. We have decidedthat you leave off the habit of smoking from this moment."

  "From this moment?"

  "That is the first step. The next step is to reproduce, as nearly as wecan, the domestic circumstances which surrounded you last year."

  How was this to be done? Lady Verinder was dead. Rachel and I, so longas the suspicion of theft rested on me, were parted irrevocably. GodfreyAblewhite was away travelling on the Continent. It was simply impossibleto reassemble the people who had inhabited the house, when I had sleptin it last. The statement of this objection did not appear to embarrassEzra Jennings. He attached very little importance, he said, toreassembling the same people--seeing that it would be vain to expectthem to reassume the various positions which they had occupied towardsme in the past times. On the other hand, he considered it essential tothe success of the experiment, that I should see the same objects aboutme which had surrounded me when I was last in the house.

  "Above all things," he said, "you must sleep in the room which you sleptin, on the birthday night, and it must be furnished in the same way. Thestairs, the corridors, and Miss Verinder's sitting-room, must also berestored to what they were when you saw them last. It is absolutelynecessary, Mr. Blake, to replace every article of furniture in that partof the house which may now be put away. The sacrifice of your cigarswill be useless, unless we can get Miss Verinder's permission to dothat."

  "Who is to apply to her for permission?" I asked.

  "Is it not possible for you to apply?"

  "Quite out of the question. After what has passed between us on thesubject of the lost Diamond, I can neither see her, nor write to her, asthings are now."

  Ezra Jennings paused, and considered for a moment.

  "May I ask you a delicate question?" he said.

  I signed to him to go on.

  "Am I right, Mr. Blake, in fancying (from one or two things which havedropped from you) that you felt no common interest in Miss Verinder, informer times?"

  "Quite right."

  "Was the feeling returned?"

  "It was."

  "Do you think Miss Verinder would be likely to feel a strong interest inthe attempt to prove your innocence?"

  "I am certain of it."

  "In that case, I will write to Miss Verinder--if you will give meleave."

  "Telling her of the proposal that you have made to me?"

  "Telling her of everything that has passed between us to-day."

  It is needless to say that I eagerly accepted the service which he hadoffered to me.

  "I shall have time to write by to-day's post," he said, looking at hiswatch. "Don't forget to lock up your cigars, when you get back to thehotel! I will call to-morrow morning and hear how you have passed thenight."

  I rose to take leave of him; and attempted to express the grateful senseof his kindness which I really felt.

  He pressed my hand gently. "Remember what I told you on the moor," heanswered. "If I can do you this little service, Mr. Blake, I shall feelit like a last gleam of sunshine, falling on the evening of a long andclouded day."

  We parted. It was then the fifteenth of June. The events of the nextten days--every one of them more or less directly connected with theexperiment of which I was the passive object--are all placed on record,exactly as they happened, in the Journal habitually kept by Mr. Candy'sassistant. In the pages of Ezra Jennings nothing is concealed, andnothing is forgotten. Let Ezra Jennings tell how the venture with theopium was tried, and how it ended.