sentences, which had dropped from Mr. Candy
in his delirium, appeared fis follows:

". . . Mr. Franklin Blake . . . and agreeable
. . . down a peg . . . medicine . . . .
confesses . . . sleep at night . . . tell him
. . . out of order . . . medicine . . . he tells
me . . . and groping in the dark mean one and
the same thing . . . all the company at the
dinner-table . . . I say . . . groping after sleep
. . . nothing but medicine . . . he says . . .
leading the blind . . . know what it means . . .
witty . . . a night's rest in spite of his teeth
. . . wants sleep . . . Lady Verinder's
medicine chest . . . five-and-twenty minims . . .
without his knowing it . . . to-morrow morning
. . . Well, Mr. Blake . . . medicine to-
day . . . never . . . without it . . . out, Mr.
Candy . . . excellent . . . without it . . .
down on him . . . truth . . . something
besides . . . excellent . . . dose of laudanum,
sir . . . bed . . . what . . . medicine now.

There, the first of the two sheets of paper
came to an end. I handed it back to Ezra
Jennings.

"That is what you heard at his bedside?"
I said.

"Literally and exactly what I heard," he
answered—" except that the repetitions are not
transferred here from my short-hand notes. He
reiterated certain words and phrases a dozen
times over, fifty times over, just as he attached
more or less importance to the idea which they
represented. The repetitions, in this sense, were
of some assistance to me in putting together
those fragments. Don't suppose," he added,
pointing to the second sheet of paper, " that I
claim to have reproduced the expressions which
Mr. Candy himself would have used if he had
been capable of speaking connectedly. I only
say that I have penetrated through the obstacle
of the disconnected expression, to the thought
which was underlying it connectedly, all the
time. Judge for yourself."

I turned to the second sheet of paper, which.
I now knew to be the key to the first.

Once more, Mr. Candy's wanderings appeared,
copied in black ink; the intervals between the
phrases being filled up by Ezra Jennings in red
ink. I reproduce the result here, in one plain
form; the original language and the interpreta-
tion of it coming close enough together in these
pages to be easily compared and verified.

". . . Mr. Franklin Blake is clever and agreeable,
but he wants taking down a peg when he
talks of medicine. He confesses that he has
been suffering from want of sleep at night. I
tell him that his nerves are out of order, and
that he ought to take medicine. He tells me
that taking medicine and groping in the dark
mean one and the same thing. This before all
the company at the dinner-table. I say to him,
you are groping after sleep, and nothing but
medicine can help you to find it. He says to
me, I have heard of the blind leading the blind,
and now I know what it means. Witty but
I can pive him a night's rest in spite of his
teeth. He really wants sleep; and Lady Verinder's
medicine chest is at my disposal. Give
him five and twenty minims of laudanum to-
night, without his knowing it; and then call
to-morrow morning. ' Well, Mr. Blake, will
you try a little medicine to day? You will
never sleep without it.'—'There you are out,
Mr. Candy: I have had an excellent night's
rest without it.' Then, come down on him
with the truth!' You have had something
besides an excellent night's rest; you had a
dose of laudanum, sir, before you went to bed.
What do you say to the art of medicine,
now?'"

Admiration of the ingenuity which had woven
this smooth and finished texture out of the
ravelled skein, was naturally the first impression
that I felt, on handing the manuscript back to
Ezra Jennings. He modestly interrupted the
first few words in which my sense of surprise
expressed itself, by asking me if the conclusion
which he had drawn from his notes was also the
conclusion at which my own mind had arrived.

"Do you believe as I believe," he said,
"that you were acting under the influence of
the laudanum in doing all that you did, on the
night of Miss Verinder's birthday, in Lady
Verinder's house?"

"I am too ignorant of the influence of laudanum
to have an opinion of my own," I answered.
"I can only follow your opinion, and feel
convinced that you are right."

"Very well. The next question is this.
You are convinced; and I am convinced how
are we to carry our conviction to the minds of
other people?"

I pointed to the two manuscripts, lying on
the table between us. Ezra Jennings shook his
head.

"Useless, Mr. Blake! Quite useless, as they
stand now, for three unanswerable reasons. la
the first place, those notes have been taken,
under circumstances entirely out of the
experience of the mass of mankind. Against them,
to begin with! In the second place, those
notes represent a medical and metaphysical
theory. Against them, once more! In the
third place, those notes are of my making;
there is nothing but my assertion to the
contrary, to guarantee that they are not fabrications.
Remember what I told you on the moor
and ask yourself what my assertion is worth.
No! my notes have but one value, looking to
the verdict of the world outside. Your innocence
is to be vindicated; and they show how
it can be done. We must put our conviction
to the proof and You are the man to prove it."

"How?" I asked.

He leaned eagerly nearer to me across the
table that divided us.

"Are you willing to try a bold experiment?"

"I will do anything to clear myself of the
suspicion that rests on me now."

"Will you submit to some personal
inconvenience for a time?"

"To any inconvenience, no matter what it
may be."

"Will you be guided implicitly by my advice?