the house. She had drawn him on and put him off
again, with the coquetry of a young girl. But she had confessed to her
mother that she loved cousin Franklin, and her mother had trusted
cousin Franklin with the secret. So there he was, Miss Clack, with his
creditors content to wait, and with the certain prospect before him of
marrying an heiress. By all means consider him a scoundrel; but tell me,
if you please, why he should steal the Moonstone?"

"The human heart is unsearchable," I said gently. "Who is to fathom it?"

"In other words, ma'am--though he hadn't the shadow of a reason for
taking the Diamond--he might have taken it, nevertheless, through
natural depravity. Very well. Say he did. Why the devil----"

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Bruff. If I hear the devil referred to in that
manner, I must leave the room."

"I beg YOUR pardon, Miss Clack--I'll be more careful in my choice
of language for the future. All I meant to ask was this. Why--even
supposing he did take the Diamond--should Franklin Blake make himself
the most prominent person in the house in trying to recover it? You may
tell me he cunningly did that to divert suspicion from himself. I answer
that he had no need to divert suspicion--because nobody suspected him.
He first steals the Moonstone (without the slightest reason) through
natural depravity; and he then acts a part, in relation to the loss of
the jewel, which there is not the slightest necessity to act, and which
leads to his mortally offending the young lady who would otherwise have
married him. That is the monstrous proposition which you are driven to
assert, if you attempt to associate the disappearance of the Moonstone
with Franklin Blake. No, no, Miss Clack! After what has passed here
to-day, between us two, the dead-lock, in this case, is complete.
Rachel's own innocence is (as her mother knows, and as I know) beyond
a doubt. Mr. Ablewhite's innocence is equally certain--or Rachel would
never have testified to it. And Franklin Blake's innocence, as you have
just seen, unanswerably asserts itself. On the one hand, we are morally
certain of all these things. And, on the other hand, we are equally sure
that somebody has brought the Moonstone to London, and that Mr. Luker,
or his banker, is in private possession of it at this moment. What is
the use of my experience, what is the use of any person's experience,
in such a case as that? It baffles me; it baffles you, it baffles
everybody."

No--