"You needn't say a word more, sir," I
answered. "God bless you both! I'm heartily
glad to hear it."

Mr. Franklin stared like a person thunderstruck.
"May I venture to inquire where you
got your information?" he asked. "I only got
mine (imparted in the strictest secresy) five
minutes since."

Here was an opportunity of producing Robinson
Crusoe! Here was a chance of reading that
domestic bit about the child which I had marked
on the day of Mr. Franklin's marriage! I read
those miraculous words with an emphasis which
did them justice—and then I looked him severely
in the face. "Now, sir, do you believe in Robinson
Crusoe?" I asked, with a solemnity suitable
to the occasion.

"Betteredge!" says Mr. Franklin, with equal
solemnity, "I'm convinced at last." He shook
hands with me—and I felt that I had converted
him.

With the relation of this extraordinary
circumstance, my re-appearance in these pages
comes to an end. Let nobody laugh at the
unique anecdote here related. You are welcome
to be as merry as you please over everything
else I have written. But when I write of
Robinson Crusoe, by the Lord it's serious—and I
request you to take it accordingly!

When this is said, all is said. Ladies and
gentlemen, I make my bow, and shut up the
story.

EPILOGUE.

THE FINDING OF THE DIAMOND.
I.

THE STATEMENT OF SERGEANT CUFF'S MAN,
(1849).

ON the twenty-seventh of June last, I
received instructions from Sergeant Cuff to follow
three men; suspected of murder, and described
as Indians. They had been seen on the Tower
Wharf, that morning, embarking on board the
steamer bound for Rotterdam.

I left London, by a steamer belonging to
another company, which sailed on the morning of
Thursday, the twenty-eighth.

Arriving at Rotterdam, I succeeded in finding
the commander of the Wednesday's steamer.
He informed me that the Indians had certainly
been passengers on board his vessel—but as far
as Gravesend only. Off that place, one of the
three had inquired at what time they would
reach Calais. On being informed that the
steamer was bound to Rotterdam, the spokesman
of the party expressed the greatest
surprise and distress at the mistake which he and
his two friends had made. They were all willing
(he said) to sacrifice their passage money, if the
commander of the steamer would only put them
ashore. Commiserating their position, as
foreigners in a strange land, and knowing no
reason for detaining them, the commander
signalled for a shore boat, and the three men left
the vessel.

This proceeding of the Indians having been
plainly resolved on beforehand, as a means of
preventing their being traced, I lost no time in
returning to England. I left the steamer at
Gravesend, and discovered that the Indians had
gone from that place to London. Thence, I
again traced them, as having left for Plymouth.
Inquiries made at Plymouth, proved that they
had sailed, forty-eight hours previously, in the
Bewley Castle East Indiaman, bound direct for
Bombay.

On receiving this intelligence, Sergeant Cuff
caused the authorities at Bombay to be
communicated with, overland—so that the vessel might
be boarded by the police immediately on her
entering the port. This step having been
taken, my connection with the matter came to
an end. I have heard nothing more of it since
that time.

II.

THE STATEMENT OF THE CAPTAIN, (1849).

I am requested by Sergeant Cuff to set in.
writing certain facts, concerning three men
(believed to be Hindoos) who were passengers,
last summer, in the ship Bewley Castle, bound
for Bombay direct, under my command.

The Hindoos joined us at Plymouth. On the
passage out, I heard no complaint of their
conduct. They were berthed in the forward part
of the vessel. I had but few occasions myself
of personally noticing them.

In the latter part of the voyage, we had the
misfortune to be becalmed, for three days and
nights, off the coast of India. I have not
got the ship's Journal to refer to, and I
cannot now call to mind the latitude and
longitude. As to our position, therefore, I am only
able to state generally that the currents drifted
us in towards the land, and that when the wind
found us again, we reached our port in twenty-
four hours afterwards.

The discipline of a ship (as all sea-faring
persons know) becomes relaxed in a long calm.
The discipline of my ship became relaxed.
Certain gentlemen among the passengers got some
of the smaller boats lowered, and amused
themselves by rowing about, and swimming, when
the sun, at evening time, was cool enough to
let them divert themselves in that way. The
boats, when done with, ought to have been
slung up again in their places. Instead of this,
they were left moored to the ship's side. What
with the heat, and what with the vexation of
the weather, neither officers nor men seemed
to be in heart for their duty while the calm
lasted.

On the third night, nothing unusual was heard
or seen by the watch on deck. When the
morning came, the smallest of the boats was
missing—and the three Hindoos were next
reported to be missing too.

If these men had stolen the boat shortly
after dark (which I have no doubt they did)
we were near enough to the land to make it
vain to send in pursuit of them, when the
discovery was made in the morning. I have no
doubt they got ashore, in that calm weather