June 18th.—­Late again, in calling on Mr. Franklin Blake.  More of that horrible pain in the early morning; followed, this time, by complete prostration, for some hours.  I foresee, in spite of the penalties which it exacts from me, that I shall have to return to the opium for the hundredth time.  If I had only myself to think of, I should prefer the sharp pains to the frightful dreams.  But the physical suffering exhausts me.  If I let myself sink, it may end in my becoming useless to Mr. Blake at the time when he wants me most.

It was nearly one o’clock before I could get to the hotel to-day.  The visit, even in my shattered condition, proved to be a most amusing one—­thanks entirely to the presence on the scene of Gabriel Betteredge.

I found him in the room, when I went in.  He withdrew to the window and looked out, while I put my first customary question to my patient.  Mr. Blake had slept badly again, and he felt the loss of rest this morning more than he had felt it yet.

I asked next if he had heard from Mr. Bruff.

A letter had reached him that morning.  Mr. Bruff expressed the strongest disapproval of the course which his friend and client was taking under my advice.  It was mischievous—­for it excited hopes that might never be realised.  It was quite unintelligible to his mind, except that it looked like a piece of trickery, akin to the trickery of mesmerism, clairvoyance, and the like.  It unsettled Miss Verinder’s house, and it would end in unsettling Miss Verinder herself.  He had put the case (without mentioning names) to an eminent physician; and the eminent physician had smiled, had shaken his head, and had said—­nothing.  On these grounds, Mr. Bruff entered his protest, and left it there.

My next inquiry related to the subject of the Diamond.  Had the lawyer produced any evidence to prove that the jewel was in London?

No, the lawyer had simply declined to discuss the question.  He was himself satisfied that the Moonstone had been pledged to Mr. Luker.  His eminent absent friend, Mr. Murthwaite (whose consummate knowledge of the Indian character no one could deny), was satisfied also.  Under these circumstances, and with the many demands already made on him, he must decline entering into any disputes on the subject of evidence.  Time would show; and Mr. Bruff was willing to wait for time.

It was quite plain—­even if Mr. Blake had not made it plainer still by reporting the substance of the letter, instead of reading what was actually written—­that distrust of me was at the bottom of all this.  Having myself foreseen that result, I was neither mortified nor surprised.  I asked Mr. Blake if his friend’s protest had shaken him.  He answered emphatically, that it had not produced the slightest effect on his mind.  I was free after that to dismiss Mr. Bruff from consideration—­and I did dismiss him accordingly.

A pause in the talk between us, followed—­and Gabriel Betteredge came out from his retirement at the window.