"Above all things," he said, "you must sleep in the room which you slept

in, on the birthday night, and it must be furnished in the same way. The

stairs, the corridors, and Miss Verinder's sitting-room, must also be

restored to what they were when you saw them last. It is absolutely

necessary, Mr. Blake, to replace every article of furniture in that part

of the house which may now be put away. The sacrifice of your cigars

will be useless, unless we can get Miss Verinder's permission to do

that."

"Who is to apply to her for permission?" I asked.

"Is it not possible for you to apply?"

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"Quite out of the question. After what has passed between us on the

subject of the lost Diamond, I can neither see her, nor write to her, as

things are now."

Ezra Jennings paused, and considered for a moment.

"May I ask you a delicate question?" he said.

I signed to him to go on.

"Am I right, Mr. Blake, in fancying (from one or two things which have

dropped from you) that you felt no common interest in Miss Verinder, in

former times?"

"Quite right."

"Was the feeling returned?"

"It was."

"Do you think Miss Verinder would be likely to feel a strong interest in

the attempt to prove your innocence?"

"I am certain of it."

"In that case, I will write to Miss Verinder--if you will give me

leave."

"Telling her of the proposal that you have made to me?"

"Telling her of everything that has passed between us to-day."

It is needless to say that I eagerly accepted the service which he had

offered to me.

"I shall have time to write by to-day's post," he said, looking at his

watch. "Don't forget to lock up your cigars, when you get back to the

hotel! I will call to-morrow morning and hear how you have passed the

night."

I rose to take leave of him; and attempted to express the grateful sense

of his kindness which I really felt.

He pressed my hand gently. "Remember what I told you on the moor," he

answered. "If I can do you this little service, Mr. Blake, I shall feel

it like a last gleam of sunshine, falling on the evening of a long and

clouded day."

We parted. It was then the fifteenth of June. The events of the next

ten days--every one of them more or less directly connected with the

experiment of which I was the passive object--are all placed on record,

exactly as they happened, in the Journal habitually kept by Mr. Candy's

assistant. In the pages of Ezra Jennings nothing is concealed, and

nothing is forgotten. Let Ezra Jennings tell how the venture with the

opium was tried, and how it ended.




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