er did such a thing in your life!"

Here again, I felt that Betteredge must be right. Neither at home nor
abroad had my life ever been of the solitary sort. If I had been a
sleep-walker, there were hundreds on hundreds of people who must have
discovered me, and who, in the interest of my own safety, would have
warned me of the habit, and have taken precautions to restrain it.

Still, admitting all this, I clung--with an obstinacy which was surely
natural and excusable, under the circumstances--to one or other of
the only two explanations that I could see which accounted for the
unendurable position in which I then stood. Observing that I was not yet
satisfied, Betteredge shrewdly adverted to certain later events in the
history of the Moonstone; and scattered both my theories to the wind at
once and for ever.

"Let's try it another way, sir," he said. "Keep your own opinion, and
see how far it will take you towards finding out the truth. If we are to
believe the nightgown--which I don't for one--you not only smeared
off the paint from the door, without knowing it, but you also took the
Diamond without knowing it. Is that right, so far?"

"Quite right. Go on."

"Very good, sir. We'll say you were drunk, or walking in your sleep,
when you took the jewel. That accounts for the night and morning, after
the birthday. But how does it account for what has happened since that
time? The Diamond has been taken to London, since that time. The Diamond
has been pledged to Mr. Luker, since that time. Did you do those two
things, without knowing it, too? Were you drunk when I saw you off in
the pony-chaise on that Saturday evening? And did you walk in your sleep
to Mr. Luker's, when the train had brought you to your journey's end?
Excuse me for saying it, Mr. Franklin, but this business has so upset
you, that you're not fit yet to judge for yourself. The sooner you lay
your head alongside Mr. Bruff's head, the sooner you will see your way
out of the dead-lock that has got you now."

We reached the station, with only a minute or two to spare.

I hurriedly gave Betteredge my address in London, so that he might write
to me, if necessary; promising, on my side, to inform him of any news
which I might have to communicate. This done, and just as I was bidding
him farewell, I happened to glance towards the book-and-newspaper stall.
There was Mr. Candy's remarkable-looking assistant again, speaking to
the keeper of the stall! Our eyes m