it is needless to say, by
Gabriel Betteredge. I had the letter in my pocket, and the nightgown
safely packed in a little bag--both to be submitted, before I slept that
night, to the investigation of Mr. Bruff.

We left the house in silence. For the first time in my experience of
him, I found old Betteredge in my company without a word to say to me.
Having something to say on my side, I opened the conversation as soon as
we were clear of the lodge gates.

"Before I go to London," I began, "I have two questions to ask you. They
relate to myself, and I believe they will rather surprise you."

"If they will put that poor creature's letter out of my head, Mr.
Franklin, they may do anything else they like with me. Please to begin
surprising me, sir, as soon as you can."

"My first question, Betteredge, is this. Was I drunk on the night of
Rachel's Birthday?"

"YOU drunk!" exclaimed the old man. "Why it's the great defect of your
character, Mr. Franklin that you only drink with your dinner, and never
touch a drop of liquor afterwards!"

"But the birthday was a special occasion. I might have abandoned my
regular habits, on that night of all others."

Betteredge considered for a moment.

"You did go out of your habits, sir," he said. "And I'll tell you how.
You looked wretchedly ill--and we persuaded you to have a drop of brandy
and water to cheer you up a little."

"I am not used to brandy and water. It is quite possible----"

"Wait a bit, Mr. Franklin. I knew you were not used, too. I poured you
out half a wineglass-full of our fifty year old Cognac; and (more shame
for me!) I drowned that noble liquor in nigh on a tumbler-full of cold
water. A child couldn't have got drunk on it--let alone a grown man!"

I knew I could depend on his memory, in a matter of this kind. It was
plainly impossible that I could have been intoxicated. I passed on to
the second question.

"Before I was sent abroad, Betteredge, you saw a great deal of me when I
was a boy? Now tell me plainly, do you remember anything strange of me,
after I had gone to bed at night? Did you ever discover me walking in my
sleep?"

Betteredge stopped, looked at me for a moment, nodded his head, and
walked on again.

"I see your drift now, Mr. Franklin!" he said "You're trying to
account for how you got the paint on your nightgown, without knowing it
yourself. It won't do, sir. You're miles away still from getting at the
truth. Walk in your sleep? You nev