use, I have said I don't know. That you will
please to observe, was a lie. Having one foot already in the grave, sir,
the fewer lies you expect me to tell, the more I shall be indebted to
you, when my conscience pricks me and my time comes."

There was not a moment to be wasted on the purely speculative question
of Betteredge's conscience. Mr. Blake might make his appearance in
search of me, unless I went to him at once in his own room. Miss
Verinder followed me out into the corridor.

"They seem to be in a conspiracy to persecute you," she said. "What does
it mean?"

"Only the protest of the world, Miss Verinder--on a very small
scale--against anything that is new."

"What are we to do with Mrs. Merridew?"

"Tell her the explosion will take place at nine to-morrow morning."

"So as to send her to bed?"

"Yes--so as to send her to bed."

Miss Verinder went back to the sitting-room, and I went upstairs to Mr.
Blake.

To my surprise I found him alone; restlessly pacing his room, and a
little irritated at being left by himself.

"Where is Mr. Bruff?" I asked.

He pointed to the closed door of communication between the two rooms.
Mr. Bruff had looked in on him, for a moment; had attempted to renew his
protest against our proceedings; and had once more failed to produce the
smallest impression on Mr. Blake. Upon this, the lawyer had taken refuge
in a black leather bag, filled to bursting with professional papers.
"The serious business of life," he admitted, "was sadly out of place on
such an occasion as the present. But the serious business of life
must be carried on, for all that. Mr. Blake would perhaps kindly make
allowance for the old-fashioned habits of a practical man. Time was
money--and, as for Mr. Jennings, he might depend on it that Mr. Bruff
would be forthcoming when called upon." With that apology, the lawyer
had gone back to his own room, and had immersed himself obstinately in
his black bag.

I thought of Mrs. Merridew and her embroidery, and of Betteredge and
his conscience. There is a wonderful sameness in the solid side of the
English character--just as there is a wonderful sameness in the solid
expression of the English face.

"When are you going to give me the laudanum?" asked Mr. Blake
impatiently.

"You must wait a little longer," I said. "I will stay and keep you
company till the time comes."

It was then not ten o'clock. Inquiries which I had made, at various
times, of Betteredge a