"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?"
"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.