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Updated: June 24, 2025
His opinion, when he expressed it, was given in his usual downright manner, and was agreeably redolent of the most positive philosophy I know the philosophy of the Betteredge school. "Miss Rachel has her faults I've never denied it," he began. "And riding the high horse, now and then, is one of them. She has been trying to ride over you and you have put up with it. Lord, Mr.
Keep about the house, Betteredge, till I come back, and try what you can make of Rosanna Spearman. I don't ask you to do anything degrading to your own self-respect, or anything cruel towards the girl. I only ask you to exercise your observation more carefully than usual. We will make as light of it as we can before my aunt but this is a more important matter than you may suppose."
I thought of Mrs. Merridew and her embroidery, and of Betteredge and his conscience. There is a wonderful sameness in the solid side of the English character just as there is a wonderful sameness in the solid expression of the English face. "When are you going to give me the laudanum?" asked Mr. Blake impatiently. "You must wait a little longer," I said.
"But there is the witness against me! The paint on the nightgown, and the name on the nightgown are facts." Betteredge lifted my glass, and put it persuasively into my hand. "Facts?" he repeated. "Take a drop more grog, Mr. Franklin, and you'll get over the weakness of believing in facts! Foul play, sir!" he continued, dropping his voice confidentially. "That is how I read the riddle.
"That's the Subjective view," says Mr. Franklin. "It does you great credit, Betteredge, to be able to take the Subjective view. But there's another mystery about the Colonel's legacy which is not accounted for yet. How are we to explain his only giving Rachel her birthday present conditionally on her mother being alive?" "I don't want to slander a dead man, sir," I answered.
Betteredge, and give the necessary directions for reopening the house. 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.
I looked up from them. There was the sun; there were the glittering waters of the bay; there was old Betteredge, advancing nearer and nearer to me. I looked back again at the letters. My own name. Plainly confronting me my own name. "If time, pains, and money can do it, I will lay my hand on the thief who took the Moonstone." I had left London, with those words on my lips.
You can hardly object to THAT on Miss Rachel's account," the old man added slily. "Hotherstone lives, Mr. Franklin, on his own freehold." I remembered the place the moment Betteredge mentioned it.
"As things are now," I said, "if I was in your place, I should be at my wits' end." "If you were in my place," answered the Sergeant, "you would have formed an opinion and, as things are now, any doubt you might previously have felt about your own conclusions would be completely set at rest. Never mind for the present what those conclusions are, Mr. Betteredge.
Of course, I never supposed that you a gentleman had stolen the Diamond for the mere pleasure of stealing it. No. Penelope had heard Miss Rachel, and I had heard Mr. Betteredge, talk about your extravagance and your debts. It was plain enough to me that you had taken the Diamond to sell it, or pledge it, and so to get the money of which you stood in need. Well!
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