guide. Mr. Bruff asked, in astonishment, what I
was going to do.

"I am going to Yorkshire," I answered, "by the next train."

"May I ask for what purpose?"

"Mr. Bruff, the assistance I innocently rendered to the inquiry after
the Diamond was an unpardoned offence, in Rachel's mind, nearly a year
since; and it remains an unpardoned offence still. I won't accept that
position! I am determined to find out the secret of her silence towards
her mother, and her enmity towards me. If time, pains, and money can do
it, I will lay my hand on the thief who took the Moonstone!"

The worthy old gentleman attempted to remonstrate--to induce me to
listen to reason--to do his duty towards me, in short. I was deaf to
everything that he could urge. No earthly consideration would, at that
moment, have shaken the resolution that was in me.

"I shall take up the inquiry again," I went on, "at the point where I
dropped it; and I shall follow it onwards, step by step, till I come to
the present time. There are missing links in the evidence, as I left it,
which Gabriel Betteredge can supply, and to Gabriel Betteredge I go!"

Towards sunset that evening I stood again on the well-remembered
terrace, and looked once more at the peaceful old country house. The
gardener was the first person whom I saw in the deserted grounds. He had
left Betteredge, an hour since, sunning himself in the customary corner
of the back yard. I knew it well; and I said I would go and seek him
myself.

I walked round by the familiar paths and passages, and looked in at the
open gate of the yard.

There he was--the dear old friend of the happy days that were never to
come again--there he was in the old corner, on the old beehive chair,
with his pipe in his mouth, and his ROBINSON CRUSOE on his lap, and his
two friends, the dogs, dozing on either side of him! In the position
in which I stood, my shadow was projected in front of me by the last
slanting rays of the sun. Either the dogs saw it, or their keen scent
informed them of my approach; they started up with a growl. Starting
in his turn, the old man quieted them by a word, and then shaded his
failing eyes with his hand, and looked inquiringly at the figure at the
gate.

My own eyes were full of tears. I was obliged to wait a moment before I
could trust myself to speak to him.

CHAPTER II

"Betteredge!" I said, pointing to the well-remembered book on his knee,
"has ROBINSON CRUSOE informed you, thi