It was all very well to say that, but he had frightened me.

If he was right, here was our quiet English house suddenly invaded by a devilish Indian Diamond—­bringing after it a conspiracy of living rogues, set loose on us by the vengeance of a dead man.  There was our situation as revealed to me in Mr. Franklin’s last words!  Who ever heard the like of it—­in the nineteenth century, mind; in an age of progress, and in a country which rejoices in the blessings of the British constitution?  Nobody ever heard the like of it, and, consequently, nobody can be expected to believe it.  I shall go on with my story, however, in spite of that.

When you get a sudden alarm, of the sort that I had got now, nine times out of ten the place you feel it in is your stomach.  When you feel it in your stomach, your attention wanders, and you begin to fidget.  I fidgeted silently in my place on the sand.  Mr. Franklin noticed me, contending with a perturbed stomach or mind—­which you please; they mean the same thing—­and, checking himself just as he was starting with his part of the story, said to me sharply, “What do you want?”

What did I want?  I didn’t tell him; but I’ll tell you, in confidence.  I wanted a whiff of my pipe, and a turn at Robinson Crusoe.

CHAPTER VI

Keeping my private sentiments to myself, I respectfully requested Mr. Franklin to go on.  Mr. Franklin replied, “Don’t fidget, Betteredge,” and went on.

Our young gentleman’s first words informed me that his discoveries, concerning the wicked Colonel and the Diamond, had begun with a visit which he had paid (before he came to us) to the family lawyer, at Hampstead.  A chance word dropped by Mr. Franklin, when the two were alone, one day, after dinner, revealed that he had been charged by his father with a birthday present to be taken to Miss Rachel.  One thing led to another; and it ended in the lawyer mentioning what the present really was, and how the friendly connexion between the late Colonel and Mr. Blake, senior, had taken its rise.  The facts here are really so extraordinary, that I doubt if I can trust my own language to do justice to them.  I prefer trying to report Mr. Franklin’s discoveries, as nearly as may be, in Mr. Franklin’s own words.

“You remember the time, Betteredge,” he said, “when my father was trying to prove his title to that unlucky Dukedom?  Well! that was also the time when my uncle Herncastle returned from India.  My father discovered that his brother-in-law was in possession of certain papers which were likely to be of service to him in his lawsuit.  He called on the Colonel, on pretence of welcoming him back to England.  The Colonel was not to be deluded in that way.  ‘You want something,’ he said, ’or you would never have compromised your reputation by calling on me.’  My father saw that the one chance for him was to show