was firmly believed that the Moonstone was at
the bottom of it. When he came back to
England, and found himself avoided by everybody,
the Moonstone was thought to be at the
bottom of it again. The mystery of the
Colonel's life got in the Colonel's way, and
outlawed him, as you may say, among his own
people. The men wouldn't let him into their
clubs; the women—more than one—whom he
wanted to marry, refused him; friends and
relations got too near-sighted to see him in the
street.

Some men in this mess would have tried to
set themselves right with the world. But to
give in, even when he was wrong, and had all
society against him, was not the way of the
Honourable John. He had kept the Diamond,
in flat defiance of assassination, in India. He
kept the Diamond, in flat defiance of public
opinion, in England. There you have the
portrait of the man before you, as in a picture: a
character that braved everything; and a face,
handsome as it was, that looked possessed by
the devil.

We heard different rumours about him from
time to time. Sometimes they said he was
given up to smoking opium, and collecting old
books; sometimes he was reported to be trying
strange things in chemistry; sometimes he was
seen carousing and amusing himself among the
lowest people in the lowest slums of London.
Anyhow, a solitary, vicious, underground life
was the life the Colonel led. Once, and once
only, after his return to England, I myself saw
him, face to face.

About two years before the time of which I
am now writing, and about a year and a half
before the time of his death, the Colonel came
unexpectedly to my lady's house in London.
It was the night of Miss Rachel's birthday,
the twenty-first of June; and there was a party
in honour of it, as usual. I received a message
from the footman to say that a gentleman
wanted to see me. Going up into the hall,
there I found the Colonel, wasted, and worn,
and old, and shabby, and as wild and as wicked
as ever.

"Go up to my sister," says he; " and say
that I have called to wish my niece many happy
returns of the day."

He had made attempts by letter, more than
once already, to be reconciled with my lady, for
no other purpose, I am firmly persuaded, than
to annoy her. But this was the first time he
had actually come to the house. I had it on the
tip of my tongue to say that my mistress had a
party that night. But the devilish look of him
daunted me. I went up-stairs with his message,
and left him, by his own desire, waiting in the
hall. The servants stood staring at him, at a
distance, as if he was a walking engine of
destruction, loaded with powder and shot, and
likely to go off among them at a moment's
notice.

My lady has a dash—no more—of the family
temper. " Tell Colonel Herncastle," she said,
when I gave her her brother's message, " that
Miss Verinder is engaged, and that I decline to
see him." I tried to plead for a civiller answer
than that; knowing the Colonel's constitutional
superiority to the restraints which govern
gentlemen in general. Quite useless! The family
temper flashed out at me directly. " When I
want, your advice," says my lady, " you know
that I always ask for it. " I don't ask for it
now." I went down-stairs with the message,
of which I took the liberty of presenting a new
and amended edition of my own contriving, as
follows: " My lady and Miss Rachel regret
that they are engaged, Colonel; and beg to be
excused having the honour of seeing you."

I expected him to break out, even at that
polite way of putting it. To my surprise he did
nothing of the sort; he alarmed me by taking
the thing with an unnatural quiet. His eyes,
of a glittering bright grey, just settled on me
for a moment ; and he laughed, not out of
himself, like other people, but into himself, in a soft,
chuckling, horridly mischievous way. " Thank
you, Betteredge," he said. "I shall remember
my niece's birthday." With that, he turned
on his heel, and walked out of the house.

The next birthday came round, and we heard
he was ill in bed. Six months afterwards—
that is to say, six months before the time I am
now writing of there came a letter from a
highly respectable clergyman to my lady. It
communicated two wonderful things in the way
of family news. First, that the Colonel had
forgiven his sister on his death-bed. Second, that
he had forgiven everybody else, and had made
a most edifying end. I have myself (in spite
of the bishops and the clergy) an unfeigned
respect for the Church; but I am firmly
persuaded, at the same time, that the devil
remained in undisturbed possession of the Honourable
John, and that the last abominable act in
the life of that abominable man was (saving
your presence) to take the clergyman in!

This was the sum-total of what I had to tell
Mr. Franklin. I remarked that he listened
more and more eagerly the longer I went on.
Also, that the story of the Colonel being sent
away from his sister's door, on the occasion of
his niece's birthday, seemed to strike Mr.
Franklin like a shot that had hit the mark.
Though he didn't acknowledge it, I saw that I
had made him uneasy, plainly enough, in his
face.

"You have said your say, Betteredge," he
remarked. " It's my turn now. Before,
however, I tell you what discoveries I have made in
London, and how I come to be mixed up in
this matter of the Diamond, I want to know
one thing. You look, my old friend, as if you
didn't quite understand the object to be
answered by this consultation of ours. Do your
looks belie you?"

"No, sir," I said. " My looks, on this
occasion at any rate, tell the truth."

"In that case," says Mr. Franklin, "suppose
I put you up to my point of view, before we
go any further. I see three very serious