CHAPTER VI.

I walked to the railway station accompanied, it is needless to say, by Gabriel Beteridge.

I had the letter in my pocket, and the nightgown safely packed in a little bag, both to be submitted

before I slept that night to the investigation of Mr. Brough.

We left the house in silence, for the first time in my experience of him, I found old

Beteridge in my company without a word to say to me.

Having something to say on my side, I opened the conversation as soon as we were clear of

the lodge gates.

Before I go to London I began, I have two questions to ask you.

They relate to myself, and I believe they will rather surprise you.

If they will put that poor creature's letter out of my head, Mr. Franklin, they may do

anything else they like with me, please to begin surprising me, sir, as soon as you can.

My first question, Beteridge, is this?

Was I drunk on the night of Rachel's birthday?

You, drunk, exclaim the old man, why it's the great defect of your character, Mr. Franklin,

that you only drink with your dinner and never touch a drop of liquor afterwards.

But the birthday was a special occasion.

I might have abandoned my regular habits on that night of all others.

Beteridge, considered for a moment.

You did go out of your habits, sir, he said, and I'll tell you how.

You looked wretchedly ill, and we persuaded you to have a drop of brandy and water to

cheer you up a little.

...